Quiet Mind

So many new thoughts
A labyrinth pathed in whispers
The dimmest of lights

Is this how most think?
Most pieces beneath notice
The rest barely heard?

Like the steps taken
Meticulously carved halls
Are now just walked through

Accords and disputes
Handled by the muted lim
As my days pass by

There's an anxious calm
Remembering the curtain
No longer held wide

If I am to write
Days in and before famine
It may be of this

Of tide felt softly
Suspicious of gentle winds
And my sense of them

There is a beauty
In this sense of mindlessness
All preference aside 

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