Psych

In the quiet of a clinic’s hushed refrain,
A mind unfurls its tangled skein of thought—
Where shadows dance with hope, and doubts are slain,
And every whisper carries lessons taught.

The analyst’s keen eye, a steady lamp,
Traces the currents of the soul’s deep stream,
Turning the cryptic riddles into lamp
That guides the lost back to wakeful dream.

So here we stand, between the known and unseen,
Exploring the labyrinth where psyche gleams.