Mind, Heart And Time

the mind
is a pen that
stitches
the broken skin
of the
heart

the heart when healed
makes the mind
sleep

it sings like a
wind
that touches
the heights of
cliffs

the coldness of the
fog
that hangs upon
the trees
turns this place of misery
into
a temple of beauty

the mind wakes up
a stranger anew
to what it had been seeing
in the face
of that river without
banks

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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