Be Still, My Turbulent Mind (a poem)

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A pentametric poem in six stanzas. Recite aloud.

Be Still, My Turbulent Mind

I awake, and my mind’s wheel starts churning,
It spins out dreams even while I’m sleeping,
Why does my brain think so unceasingly?
What’d happen if it went still fleetingly?

Would I wilt, crumple, or cease to exist?
Is it not enough that my heart would beat?
That blood would course in vein and artery?
That there’d still be warmth in my body?

Why does my mind worry about nothing?
Think over and over ‘bout the same thing?
Long for dopamine and oxytocin,
Constantly seek something exciting.

I am so fed up with my busy brain,
I want a break from the unending strain,
For what I am, I know my mind is prime,
But why should I be me all the time?

Maybe it would be good to be someone else,
A soul happy, quiet, who thinks much less.
Is anyone so — dunce or magistrate?
Or life condemns all to cogitate?

Am I doomed to think till the day I die?
Music, meditation, should these I try?
O, they’re just more answers to search and find!
Will you please be still, my turbulent mind?

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