Save for the ticking of the clock on the wall,
You hear the sound of your mind wandering lanes-
The static of its erratic footfall.
Sometimes it reaches the same place twice,
And often, a hundred times more,
Choosing lanes by a roll of the dice,
The address the same as before.
If you’re lucky though, it might wander free,
Chase a few butterflies, or climb a tree,
Or float with the breeze, aimlessly-
Anything to forget its inadequacy.
By the minute, the roads seem more rough,
Till exhaustion hits it, suddenly,
And it feels small, not good enough,
Till your eyes shut close and you let it be.
Let your mind walk on, if you must,
But may it not forget to enjoy the scene.
May it not dwell on the rust of the past,
Only on the old route, the had-been.
Let your mind walk on, if you must,
But may it not forget to admire the view,
And remember, we’re made of stardust,
There’s a sprinkle of magic inside of you.