Liquid Mind

As the meek face of morning
Peered, winking generously
Over the woken earth
Came a lonely boat,
Slaving to the tide
Soothing solemnly by
As a sailing thought
Slowly making its way
Across the pallid waters
Of my liquid mind.
Reducing behind it,
A gentle wake
Of tender realisations,
Some role and involve
By the welcoming waters,
Their timid waves blend
With the fluid knowledge.
And some,
Subtle and modest
About their eternity,
Gather and tend
The water in silent swirls,
Turning the glossy pool of my mind
And mixing elaborately
With the gentle schools of thought,
  And as they purge across
The supple surface
In the serenest depths of my quietude,
And blown with the winds
Of my silent pondering,
Find at last their simple eventuality,
Having skulled the calm
Surface of my musing,
Ripple, build and break,
Their surging afterthoughts
Climbing and washing back,
Impressing the weathered shores
Of my mood.
Leaving me with the flotsam
Of over-thoughts.
A bobbing procession
Of helpless ideas
Stranded to the noontides
Of the ocean between my ears.
 

by Alfie Marsden-Smedley

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