The mind rushes to seek itself,
But what really is the mind seeking when it hasn't yet known what it is to be seen?
                        Still the mind rushes to seek itself,
Running to the deep ends of it's world to see what they mean,
                         Verity is not a thing to look for only on the inside,
It is in front of us encircling of what is yet to be known,
                        They are not riddles of what the mind asks,
All laid out in measures to be shown,
                        Of realization and wondering tasks,
'Why am I here?' the mind would ask,
                       How long do you think would all of this last?