Sometimes my mind likes to race toward the future…not that I LIKE to race toward the future,
But my mind sure does.
And it (my mind) seems to leap and tear around mercilessly
At night when I’m supposed to be sleeping.
The thoughts dipping and spreading slowly, at first, then by three in the morning
Rushing here there and everywhere
Sliding around in the old head like oil spilling out of a tipped over can
Everything always looks so much better in the morning.
For then you have understanding, there are no borders; wandering thoughts can’t survive…action takes the place of worry.
From my world to your heart,