The mind errs. My mind errs.
The mind slips from its own grasp.
The mind believes the clouds that surround it are summoned by its will.
The mind, my errant mind, your proud mind, the mind we share in confusion lives by one illusion.
The mind calls this illusion, control.
Knowledge does not dispel this illusion.
Even though it claims to.
There is no enlightenment from this illusion.
Except in madness.
Kindness too, the humble gift of the unhinged, dissolves the clouds.
Then, in the time left to us, we see the madness of the day.
Its beauty. Its fear.
In that final abandon, we forgive control.
We live in a freedom we can never control.