We hold onto thoughts, they are secondhand

Mining them for happiness, a pastime that will stand

Wisdom remains frozen like stalactites in a cavern

When it thaws, it is a drunken bliss you won’t find in a tavern

Forgetting we come fully equipped

The experience of vastness is clipped

By the mind, reveling in myriad forms

The unknown is lost in its daily storms

Happy we are in the mind’s frothy shallows

Letting our imagination search for the hallows

If only the mind’s footprint is smaller than the head of a pin

We will cease to be occupied with reward and sin

There is much left to be mined

Which will open eyes that remain blind

Intelligent revelations that may seem alien

Will help us discover a source that’s ever radiant