The mind is full of dark landscapes illuminated by ideas that pass through it
or
The mind is a white heaven that illuminates every idea and inspects it assiduously
Neither is true both are true
the mind is a place we keep secrets
Unlock that door and you see what was hidden from you
Usually by a loved one
Who needed a room to store the things they loved
a place to lock them away, save their energy
for a golden moment when you run out of things to do
and take on all those “projects”
Do you try and open that room
“Release” what is within
expose the horror?
Most rooms lie empty for years,
dust being their only inhabitant
their only servant is memory
respect for the dead
waiting for them to return
They are full of darkness, lack the memory of colour
and you are taken there by wounded soldiers
to fight in that war to protect delicacy
to protect the values of a forgotten Maistro
a figure dancing in the heads of the classroom
so simple its form, it infects their minds and they
are no longer soldiers,
consider the mother burned by the fires of bombs
still attempting to feed her children
they are those children
the button on the society’s head simulates danger
reasons to live are not always palatable
reasons to love, often aren’t
reasons to die are more feared
than that ideas will keep us in line