As my story is short
and you are so bold,
please put your consciousness on hold.

The people I attract wear three shapes,
infants, meditative, dead.
I come in waves--a quiet hymn--
reflection, wears me thin.
My preference is existence, yet
my presence is happenstance
in the mind-filled man.

Humans are mov'n and hunt'n
for those thought jewels, distract'n--
win'n their eyes and ears over,
and blind'n them from silence.
Someth'n ain't right, and you ought
to stop feast'n Mr. Cognizant
And lay aside your thoughts.