“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”― John Milton, Paradise Lost
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Consider the mind
in whose deep caverns find
scatterings of memories
prismatically displaced.

Red recollections
that still incur wrath and venom,
arguments long forgotten.

Green recollections
emanate warmth that kindles
innocent times recalled.

Blue recollections
mauling at this bogus tranquillity,
scratching and tearing,
leaving oozing welts that fester
into melancholy.

Now hold this mirror shard
to these memories’ light:
watch the beams discordant
ricochet, obtuse, acute,
chaotically flaring into momentary awareness.

Consider the mind ...