Mind

Two minds of mine

seldom meet 

in agreement,

bickering often, 

never working in

tandem.

One’s a dreamer,

one’s a realist,

one’s an artist,

one’s a corporate slave.

Who I end up being

depends on what

they say.

And then there’s

my heart too,

the silent observer,

listening and gloating,

while my mind

is busy floating.

It never interferes, 

or casts any objections,

as it knows eventually,

I’ll get what it truly wants.