John Grey

MY MIND IS MADE UP


By the time the sun sets,
I will be ensconced in a box
with tiny holes for letting
in moonlight and sound and air. 

Nothing will change for me
from one night to the next.
Conversation will be seldom
and only with myself.

 Knock on my outside
and you may as well
spin your wheels into oblivion.
There’s no way in. 

Yes, I’ll have plenty
of time to think
but nothing
of any consequence.

It was thinking that
led me to this decision.
And thoughts are not designed
for reconsideration.

Call me a hermit if you must.
But I’m not cutting myself off
from the world.
In fact, I’m becoming the world. 

To me, the world is a made-up mind
and a place to secure it.
I am one of these already.
My body is the other.

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