The Landscape of the Mind

The landscape of the mind is filled

With noxious weeds and overgrown

For on its soil the seeds are spilled

Of tired thoughts we believe we own.

How then to clear these cluttered fields,

Prepare a fertile ground and wait

Till in its time the spirit yields

The mystic seeds to germinate

And we are freed from foreign strains

That once grew uninhibited,

Free to keep the ripened grains

By the flowering of spirit fed.