Thursday, November 15, 2007


Were thought gold,

I’d be Midas

Of the golden touch.

Yet thought is more than gold-

a cloud, like mist; a dream, like wind-

fragile as the break of morning.

Thought is a field, fertile-

it’s a sea, bountiful;

a jungle, fearsome and rich.

Thought is a dream

thin and light, quickly forgotten;

with grip on the mind.

Thought is the glue, binding us human;

The touch divine, stealing our minds;

freedom and bondage, both the bars

and keys from prison.

Thought is divine. Simply divine.

©GayUganda 15 Nov. 07

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