Thought Journey

Thought Journey

My thought wore black today,
on its way into my journal,
where it was forced to undress
and stand aghast before the mirror.

It emerged statuesque—
on its way relieved and ready
to dive through another day,
and choose between the hope or fear.

And into the stream it dove,
fought against the current,
forgetting this morning’s pledge
to go with the flow.

And battered by the boulders
a cloak pulled over its shoulders,
made of dismay and despair,
it covered all but its head
                  and long and stringy hair.

But at the bend in the river
it swam alone to the bank,
and lay there for a moment,
until climbing past the delta,

it crept to bed, clothed in red
pajama bottoms—no top—
it fell exhausted next to you—
the other thought, for which it fought.