Like sparks and fish
and rapids strong enough to cut through granite,
the mind veers off and into another coral cave,
another orbit; a cosmos of the frenetic
in the attempt to assuage itself
over its charge’s inevitable demise.
How does consciousness live
with containment such as this;
bounded by skull and bones and flesh?
Illusion, the product of limitless creativity,
becomes accepted as real
while the spirit knows it is being hoodwinked.
Still, like a dog chasing its tail,
the momentum continues until,
in order to complete its rotation,
it becomes as unlike itself as possible
and morphs into a line.
And we wonder at insanity.
With diligence and observation,
the mind can be stilled.