Sometimes, I eerily go into the zone,
to cut off the buzz all on my own.
In search of the quiet, its still loud,
when I yearn to be alone in the crowd.
My carpet of thoughts like a glade,
built grass by grass, though still unmade.
Like busy bees, the thoughts I keep,
in their hive chambers as I go to sleep.
Me and my thoughts, pair one of a kind,
as I try to leave the noise behind.
As my thoughts mature on youthful meadow,
doubts like clouds cast a greyish shadow.
They stay for a while and take to flight.
The sunny thoughts poke the ideas bright.
My mind and me both remain aware,
while thoughts progress like flowing air.
Swarming little thoughts like bubbles begun,
I debate, I converse, let ideas churn.
Ideas like clouds burst into rain,
thus a poem is complete, till it happens again.
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