My Own Little Space

Sitting here thinking, in my own little space, thoughts streaming through my mind.  As one leaves another one arises.  To stop and think one thought seems so difficult, even more difficult to not think at all.  And how I dream to be a bird, swoop and dive through the breeze, or a monkey swinging from limb to limb, because I doubt they think!  With these thoughts alone am I?  I want to feel sand beneath my feet, wind in my face.  Stuck alone on a raft made for two, and there isn’t anyone here, no one there.  Help me find what I don’t have, tell me a story to help me sleep if only for awhile.  One day someday soon I hope you’ll be there when I awake.  And this life seems so very chaotic, like a chicken with its head cut off, is how it seems we are passing through it.  Keep looking for that prize you are never bound to find, because you’re always looking outward, when all you have to do is look inside.  You may not see it right away because years of falsehoods shroud it in mystery and long forgotten lore.  And so I sit here in my own little space.