Caveat: Poem #983

In philosophical discourses
the trees and ravens have their say,
while solitary thinking forces
the passing meditative day.
The churning mind can seem so fragile
and its surroundings strong and agile:
a soul made up of colored glass
and tangled in a vague morass.
The mental gaze can just distinguish
a cloud enclosed in blue and gold,
but all the world spins, gray and old,
that simple words will not extinguish -
instead, imbrute the thinker's skull:
a cloud up close is broad and dull.