Robust and fragile all in the same vein the mind is a wondrous thing,
On legs of thought, the more it wanders, it inevitably stumbles upon hidden foot paths,
Some long forgotten, others freshly worn,
Even on star lit nights as the old adage goes, theres nothing new under the sun
Bright or seemingly in a haze, dazed and incoherent,
Flagrant and superfluous or concise to a fault
Under the guise of folly at times vaulting over the sarchasm
If only for a moment, raising man and setting him apart from beast
Churning over every sensory feast, ad infinitum
In idle attempts to obtain sustenance from its cud
A world within a world.
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