Sometimes,
My hands cannot keep up,
With the things,
My mind wants to complete.
Thoughts move,
Too fast for my heart to grasp,
To measure,
If the passion meted out is enough.
So I,
Stop mid-way, and stare at my hands,
Willing them,
To get more done, without moving at all.
And technically,
Shouldn't I be accomplishing more,
If I do,
Absolutely nothing at all?
Because,
In my mind, I have done them,
And the world,
Is but a reflection of my mind.
So I will be happy,
By achieving with my thoughts,
Because delight,
Is that purple Sunbird, on my morning walk home.
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