The Conflict of Intellect

By Sahana Navaneetha

My mind is a gate that never opens

But my pen is the key to it.

Paper is the path between the gate and I

And beyond that it is brightly lit.

My mind is a storm that never recovers

It's the rain in a windy place.

But some sunshine is what I look for

To get out of this slippery maze.

It's torn or burnt to pieces-

A puzzle that was never complete.

The answer to my biggest questions

And the questions to my retreat.

It is a candle that burns so well

But a candle too has its limit,

This mind the branching tree

It grows but it's infinite.

Words can hurt as much as they heal

And I'm sure the mind has its role to play.

From the mouth that it comes from

To the one hearing the display.

My mind is the wind in motion

It's the dust and debris on land.

But as mighty as it may seem

It will never cease to expand.

By Sahana Navaneetha