if there is yet one thing that keeps me from my own mind
let it be more gentle than man
let it be more gentle than the obscure and odd
oppositions that dwell in my minimally exuberant effort to be
less than ordinary

if there is yet one thing that keeps me from my own mind
let it be happier than the hand of the beholder
hardly handling the wet concrete i call a moral compass
a mirror looks at - but a magnet attracts within
it is physically expressed and emotionally repressed
drawn only to its own invisible counterpart

if there is one thing that keeps me from my own mind
let it be electric like the current that keeps my heart half
alive
may the blood run warm but never forget the cold sting
of the rugged & rough yet equally ravenous lesson of heartbreak
may it never forget its roots, yet anticipate the cold

if there is yet one thing that keeps me from my own mind

let it be the touch of my lover
the breath of my mother
the morning birds hover
the cry of a newborn
the gasp of the dying
the rich mans conscience
and the poor mans crying
let it be soft strands of hair
a woman's chest bare
let it be a cry for help
let someone be there
let it be confidence from within
the times you could call it a win

let it be an ocean wave - let it swallow the sand
let my heart move forward - let the sail find the land

let it go back home
let it remember the days
where my mind was unscathed
and pain slipped away

let it be

let it be