Mind and words

Tongue disobeys mind!

Ideas are pick pocketed

Before their metamorphosis into words

I mean one thing

But utter the opposite!

Not ashamed. Why should?

Of late it is fashion

To show one’s face painted.

I hear cock’s first crow.

A pleasant interruption

To a dreamless sleep.

Wind whispers to overslept forests.

Then a murmur within—It’s day!

Their tongue—no letters nor words;

Ideas transmit through sand!

They mean one thing,

They utter same thing.

Wonderful feat; I envy them!

Mind melts into words.

While a child I used to listen

To the whisper within.

Now I hear nothing,

Not even an echo.

But, a moth eaten memory lingers!

For self-expression to use words,

I lost the faculty

Somewhere on the way.

Will my tongue obey?

Let me try once at least.

Wonderful, how obedient!

Please believe me,

I am telling the truth:

My mind is not in my words!

(Image: The word cloud of a Bob Dylan album. Source: Graham)