Brain

In the quiet labyrinth of the skull,
A soft grey city hums beneath the bone—
Neurons fire like lanterns in the night,
Weaving thoughts that flutter, swift and bright.

Synapses whisper, a delicate choreograph,
Electric impulses trace each hidden path,
Memory’s archive, a library of scent,
Dreams that drift where reason’s shadows vent.

Here imagination takes its restless flight,
Where logic folds with wonder’s gentle light,
And feeling, deep as ocean’s midnight tide,
Surges through the folds where secrets hide.

O marvelous organ, both fragile and fierce,
Holder of joy, of sorrow, of piercing verse—
You are the map where our souls are drawn,
The quiet pulse that carries us on.