INFANT THOUGHTS

Thoughts come with thoughts-in-hand.
Door opened, they join hands to move on...
Every thought has something to say,
in a lot of noise finally, only one -
sits in the lap of my mind.
At the end of those thoughts, -
they will be travelers again.

I promise you all to be well off.
More thoughts come with that thought -
as time does not oppress them.
Then more gems come out of the cave,
as light hides in the womb of darkness.

I understand that I am bent towards life.
Words become sentences from contemplation, 
become beautiful like a young woman.
The mind journeys in emptying of thoughts.
I see my nomadic thoughts are coming back.

Wonderful thoughts play like a child,
like a hawk flies with thoughtful clouds.
Then something new comes to the mind -
Thoughts hide in dark folds of the brain.

What I can't see, I repeatedly keep on calling,
knowing many thoughts will be similarly lost.
Like water in the desert, it will not return.
The rhythm of not saying, it does not come back -
A new friend comes to the lonely mind's nest.
Those Egyptian nomadic thoughts in their infancy,
forever left home, never ever to return again.