The Mind Creative
like an old torso in the morgue.
“And I am sad, for I have no place to go no field, nor an abode,
nor a province or country.”
And as he sat down, the world around me
seemed to chill.
“Why be that?”, I asked,
my voice tremulous
“has the world turned so good, so pure
that there is no lost soul,
no forsaken place to embrace you,
to take to you,
to empower themselves
with money, greed,
murder and avarice?”
He looked down and shook his curly golden locks
“You are ignorant. Nay, nay a fool