The pattern slowly untangles and the fog begins to lift,
Rays of metaphysical light brighten the landscape of the mind.
The race to die first loses its gravity as we dance our own patterns on the dusty earth,
And the horizon becomes a painter's pallet of colours.
Hue after hue of colour,
A landscape of eternity,
And I am forever lost in it.
Be yourself, if only for a moment;
Tomorrow has no recollection of today, and yesterday never existed.
Memories mingle and disperse, become one and the same,
And all things are remembered and forgotten simultaneoulsy.
It's a beautiful day for thinking.
By Ben Jones
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