Thinking happens quietly
Not in words and rambles
Spewing like a knotted growth of tangled vines and brambles

Forest walls of any size will always block the view
Thinking should be clear blue skies that help us see right through

But days we find we’re wandering
Through all that old growth pondering
Lost in dark and twisting paths
of branching thoughts in plots of massive
tangled knots we take in passive
nods of all we’re squandering

Yet sometimes the breeze
In the canopy trees
Makes holes in the ceiling we knew
And a pillar of light
Of clear, simple sight
Comes shining down out of the blue

And we stand in this silence
Looking up at this hole
As this beacon of light seems to shine on our soul
And it melts all the brambles away
And we see that the simplest way out of the trees
Is to follow the lightness of day

Thinking isn’t all these words
We circle in our tangled minds
It’s clearing all the growth away
So the truth can simply shine~~*