Is it not a mystery
the working of a curious mind
which never ceases to wander
Is it not a wonder
how the mind thinks yonder
Trust it to make time squander
The mind alone knows
what goes on within itself
Gives you happiness in abundance
but clings on to the sorrows as well
Makes you dream with open eyes
sometimes which none can surmise
Takes you on a high so high
makes you feel like you can fly
Even as you blink
and even as I ink
it never ceases to think.
