The mind is like a private world,
that spins within a sphere;
Of engaging thoughts and mystery,
with ideas not always clear.

It's a place we can always call our own,
unique in its expressive ways;
Sensitive and sweet yet often cold,
like a record that continues to play.

Frequently it lets someone in,
to share an opinion or two;
But sometimes it just closes up,
when it doesn't like the view.

Creative forces always at work,
to free it from despair;
Disruptive as they may often be,
are imbued with fresh, clean air.

We'll never know the strength within,
this quizzical part of man;
It's a game of chance to let it go,
to follow a life-long plan.

But wherever we go our minds evolve,
reaching out towards a treasured world;
With the privacy of self-indulgence past,
emitting echoes that shape and swirl.