viewpoints

My mind, the beholder
not once closing her single viewpoint on the world
Though she grows tired

My mind, a raging war twixt burning heat and bitter cold
harboring snow still vaguely red with blood from battles years past
thin lines weaving in:out

My mind, a beautiful field of forget-me-nots
seemingly cultivated within their rows, with no one to take credit
labors long forgotten yield beautiful fruits and flowers

My mind, a towering forest which scrapes the sky
holding within a single cabin and a single man living inside
Asleep yet awake, thoughts betray him

My mind is the janitor of all spirits lost
every day he mind cleans, never making any headway.
always

The

same

Circular

sweep
my mind is the beholder