The Ivory Tower

Thought walks in circles, lost in mist,  

Fogged by shadows, blind to light,  

Wants to rise but sinks again,  

High walls of the mind shut tight.  

The tower stands, still and cold,  

Alone in clouds that won’t depart,  

Where wisdom waits behind closed doors,  

And thought stumbles, broken, apart.  

A silent cry in the swirling gray,  

Locked within its own hard shell,  

Reaching for truth, never quite there,  

Thought circles, trapped in its cell.