2025-05-11

 Winds of the Senses


When mind unguarded seeks delight,

And chases sense from morn to night,

Each fleeting form, each siren call,

Becomes the helm where shadows fall.


The eye, it darts from light to flame,

The ear, it yearns for praise and name,

The tongue desires sweet speech or taste—

And wisdom’s voice is laid to waste.


Like wind that whips a ship astray,

And tears its compass far away,

The senses pull with fickle might,

Till day is lost to restless flight.


But still within, a captain waits,

Behind the heart’s unopened gates.

If mind recalls its sacred art,

To still the storm and steer the heart,


Then wisdom shines—a guiding star,

No longer dimmed by things that are.

For peace is found not in the chase,

But when the soul returns to grace. 





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