Our Minds are Many

Our minds are many
and they live and die
like clouds that chase
their shadows in the sky.

Or like a hive
of loyal bees that weave
their pathways
through a cold grey dawn;

return and dance
a royal turn to sign
their findings at the throne
with sure but innocent design.

Our minds are many
not a single vault
of vintage wines
maturing by default.

More like a cave
with one eye to the light
and creatures happy
to be out of sight.

Our minds are many,
like a driven storm
of swallows,
free within their given form.

Our minds are many,
and we are not wise
to heed alone
the one behind our eyes.