There is this blissful place,
Buried beneath the thoughts,
The peace of which is ready to embrace,
As the throbbing heart.

We've strayed away from this peaceful abode,
Into the realm of the mind,
Where noise abounds and clutter around,
And peace we no longer find.

To return home is the only way,
As wayward beings we ought to do,
To clear the mind the wise say,
And unearth from beneath the peace so true.

To stay put there can be an arduous task,
Though bliss abounds there,
But that's the only way to bask,
In peace and simply be aware.

© The Silent Writer

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