Tuo Peek

Minds wander to parts unknown,
some with aim, to others thrown.
There is no box to contain,
or a shelter from the rain.
The future’s seen, journeys guessed,
all’s good when none best.
But for time all is still,
all the won’t is the will.
The more torn is more to mend,
to find or fix there is no end.
Eyes open all’s insight,
mind open all’s to write.
There is no end to this poem,
for my mind does still roam.
Perhaps tomorrow we will see,
to where this future’s taken me.



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