Sometimes I wonder how our thoughts are made.
Are they like electricity, water,
Or air? Is it just our brain that’s afraid,
Or does our blood bid us run from slaughter?
Does our bone marrow rule our very lives,
Or does each cell have democratic voice
Wherever it lies - or is it our wives?
Only a joke: husbands still have a choice!
When we have two choices, how do we choose?
Sometimes we look for guidance from above.
But still it seems that, even then, we lose,
And so we ask ourselves: Where is the love?
But love originates somewhere within.
In each haystack there lies a golden pin.
Thur 2 Nov 2006
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