the clatter in mind never subsides
though I wish to get rid of, it one by one
neither do I want to talk about the clutter my mind hoards all day long
it seeps in, everywhere
my sleep suffers in its wrath
across my mind,
all over my dreams,
spills the clutter
so does the clatter
i don’t wish to talk about the clutter in my mind
until I get rid of them one by one
but, what if the only way to get rid of them is by talking about them!
but then, what’s the point in thinking about what-ifs
when all it can lead to is endless confusion,
and some more clutter?
The mind is a curious thing, isn’t it? It retrieves those memories that we presume are lost at the oddest of moments. I am forever fascinated with the mind and the game it plays. There is no limit. The ability to think, to conjure up all sorts of imaginations — oh, we owe so much to our mind!
A little clutter and clatter is just a harmless side-effect. Right? After all, this clutter gives birth to stories and poems. No wonder, time sees me going back, again and again, to pick up the pieces and polish them and keep them aside, instead of tossing them out.