Why do they think the mind must be quiet?
Why do they call it chaos when it blooms?
Why do we hide the beauty of thought — just because it can't be touched?
Inside me: a storm of questions, colors, forms.
Not noise. Not too much.
A universe in motion.
I am not still water.
lam an ocean of possibility.
Ideas dance in me before they're born.
I create with every thought.
Worlds. Words. Ways.
They say I think too much.
I say: I think further.
Who decided the mind should be a cage?
Mine is a garden. A firework. A temple.
Every thought a seed Every vision a promise.
I'm not lost.
I'm awake
I'm not absent.
I'm exploring - inward.
Because that's where it all begins.
Creation. Change. Life.
Not out there.
Here.
Within me.
In the mind.
