Abstract Thinker

Once I was called a thinker,
A bright thought from my teacher,
Then I asked myself a query,
“Do I just spend time being dreary?”

No, I don’t waste time sitting still,
I sit with senses sharp and real.
Navigating all around me,
My eyes may look like they’re just surveying,
But my mind has them wandering, far away,

My feet touch the earth, where I stand or sit,
While I ponder, they don’t feel it—
They’re wandering lands, vast and wide,
Under clouds, beside the sun, they glide.

Thinking beyond sounds, syllables, and speech,
Intrigued by the whispers that silence can teach.
The subliminal hints and the undertones,
The figurative symbols, the secret codes.

Eyes that see beyond the lens and space,
Mind that follows where the heart gives chase,
And spirit leads the way with grace.