Cruising

I, who chastise my mind's whim,

To find a meaning to thoughts,

It's meaning I remain

unknown to me.

The mind begins its work of the day

When the day slows,

the beginning of sleep

The night owl's den,

the screeching,

the nocturnal call.

The mind is a kind of garden,

Where one can find,

The things which make one smile.

It's a place of thoughts and ideas,

The place where one's mind can wander.

I have a mind

That jumps from one thing to another.

It skips, jumps and falls,

But it plays.

I have a mind

That dares to stray.

My mind is meandering

In search of dolce far niente,

Through deep leagues,

That I wade through,

With my thoughts and my thoughts only.

I feel the ground,