-Kevin Riley

The mind flows like a river
cutting through the cliffs
cleaving the landscape
clearing the chaos.

A great desert of blue cacti
lounge in an ocean of
wild flowers.

If that made sense,
psychology can help.

A study of from whence
matter comes and to hither
and tither it goest in so so few time units.

A soaring falcon that looks down
upon the many earths and takes heed
of what yellow-bellied frog that truth
may have taken.

I travel to the top of the tallest
to speak to truth.

He gestures with a hand,
waves me to his comrade,
understanding and beckons
me to sit.

I stay a while and listen.
Truth of the mind.
Truth of the body.
Truth that lets me understand.

The mind weaves itself into
a thousand patterns, its silky strands
holding it aloft and separating it
from others.

Pick apart the web, study,
analyze. Seek why. Wherefore.
To what extent.

I take a strand, and focus in.
I stare intently. I unravel it.
Put it back together in
a different arrangement.
I find others with a web
like my own.

Pity to the fly who
is trapped in this web,
for they will be lost
in its depth for a millenia.