A mind
A mind can be a wonderful but also tragic thing to hold. A beautiful mind can see a world of change in one speck of dust. In such a dramatic twist it can bury deep memories one only wants to hold dear.
The glance inside mine, you may need some protective gear and a way to box the clutter. For I think a lot on various subjects. Just as someone would a brainstorming cloud or run on sentences. That is how mine is.
Yet inside the clutter it has its organization, as my classifications. I beat to a different drummer. Always have. My mind is open to many ideas and life experiences.
I am a smorgasbord of templates and structures. Yet none of me is singular in track. I go in so many tangents one would wonder how I manage to complete a paragraph let alone a thought. And yet through it all I find the right words at the right time.
All I can do is just express myself through words and paint. I am not good talking about myself. I may do it here but no one I know reads this. Much less says anything towards it.
So when my mind pours out these thoughts, these words I place them here, on canvas, on tile or on lined parchment. It is my voice that really doesn't speak yet it does.
Surprisingly I don't think I am intelligent. I just love to read and research. What I gain from that and my experiences is what makes me knowledgeable.
Sure I understand my family has a string of vibrant minds but me, I do wonder how I came to their family.
And my many excursions in mind and adventures have brought me to glance over those who truly display a beautiful mind.
Making me realize just how naive I really am on things. Not because of inexperience but that of the choice to see with innocence in ideas. Perhaps to pinpoint this explanation is just revert back to how Jesus taught to the masses.
He was not innocent or naive but he worded himself and his illustrations so all could comprehend. That is how I strive to be. To reach many verses one.
And maybe that is the harm I bring to myself. Not showing that I can speak in educational words or technical jargon but I prefer to be a person that many can understand.
That is my mind. The cluttered, mass clouded structure behind a hard wall of bone and red hair. Perhaps I give those who want to say I am simple, naive or even innocent in much more fuel to use. Yet I am far from those tauntings.
I am me. Rolling one thought to the next. Allowances of a speck of dust to show me just how beautiful the world is.
The glance inside mine, you may need some protective gear and a way to box the clutter. For I think a lot on various subjects. Just as someone would a brainstorming cloud or run on sentences. That is how mine is.
Yet inside the clutter it has its organization, as my classifications. I beat to a different drummer. Always have. My mind is open to many ideas and life experiences.
I am a smorgasbord of templates and structures. Yet none of me is singular in track. I go in so many tangents one would wonder how I manage to complete a paragraph let alone a thought. And yet through it all I find the right words at the right time.
All I can do is just express myself through words and paint. I am not good talking about myself. I may do it here but no one I know reads this. Much less says anything towards it.
So when my mind pours out these thoughts, these words I place them here, on canvas, on tile or on lined parchment. It is my voice that really doesn't speak yet it does.
Surprisingly I don't think I am intelligent. I just love to read and research. What I gain from that and my experiences is what makes me knowledgeable.
Sure I understand my family has a string of vibrant minds but me, I do wonder how I came to their family.
And my many excursions in mind and adventures have brought me to glance over those who truly display a beautiful mind.
Making me realize just how naive I really am on things. Not because of inexperience but that of the choice to see with innocence in ideas. Perhaps to pinpoint this explanation is just revert back to how Jesus taught to the masses.
He was not innocent or naive but he worded himself and his illustrations so all could comprehend. That is how I strive to be. To reach many verses one.
And maybe that is the harm I bring to myself. Not showing that I can speak in educational words or technical jargon but I prefer to be a person that many can understand.
That is my mind. The cluttered, mass clouded structure behind a hard wall of bone and red hair. Perhaps I give those who want to say I am simple, naive or even innocent in much more fuel to use. Yet I am far from those tauntings.
I am me. Rolling one thought to the next. Allowances of a speck of dust to show me just how beautiful the world is.
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