The mind is like a wide blue sky,
Where soft and heavy clouds drift by.
Some are dark with stormy rain,
And some are light and free of pain.
Sometimes it is a restless sea,
With waves of "who I want to be."
Other times, a mirror bright,
Reflecting back the morning light.
It is a garden, green and fair,
If you will plant some kindness there.
But weeds of worry grow so tall,
If you don't tend to them at all.
It is a book with pages white,
Where we may choose the words to write.
To trace a path where hope can fly,
Beneath a vast and open sky.
Sanjyot Dhavale