I take a mind-puzzle from my dreams.
I work it out slowly, silently in my soul.
I lie still, while choreographed images–
like shadow swimmers–form patterns in my soul.
I read the news that feeds me need-to-knows,
and all I don’t know makes a hollow in my soul.
I analyze a thousand perspectives,
turning them over and over in my soul.
I pray holy words–personal not corporate–
I am imperfect, and I know better in my soul.