As consistent as the flowing tides are
Is that frail thing some call the human mind
It is a catch-all, a spiritual jar
Look through it–you can’t imagine what you’ll find
I find, when i look deep into myself
Objects forgotten, people and places
All waiting for the right time to be heard
This same time last week i spoke with a soul
And the conversation got out of hand
Our words took root and our heads took to flight
And we spoke out our minds ’til dawn’s first light
From policies to fallacies and more
From jarred daffodils to gold dill pickles
From the weather report to the whether retort
Of hearts broken, aching, sometimes attacked
Of knots and ‘not-to-be’s, and honeybees
One idea melting into the next
I’m always surprised at where we end up
But I never regret what I’ve said
Talks like these let you see the inside
Of another person; what makes them tick
You’ve shared a part of yourself; they have too
But I don’t have many talks like that anymore.

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