My World

This is a world—

A world where no one lives, I believe.

Everything here is new to me:

A leaf, a butterfly, the scent of grass—

Each a first encounter.

How do I know their names?

Did God whisper them?

Or did they drift into my mind,

Uninvited, unexplained?

I feel lost, sometimes.

Sometimes happy, sometimes sad—

Curiosity stirs like wind in trees,

Then fades into sudden anger

I cannot name.

This world is mine alone.

I live here—only me.

Others pass through,

But I, I never leave.

I stay,

Rooted in this strange terrain.

What is this place, you ask?

It’s my mind—

My scribbled, swirling mind.