the mind is like a microscope
not telescope, they say
it often turns with logic spurned
and truth just drifts away
the butlers in each story
from a mystery of shelves
are deemed to be the prophecy
of those who blame themselves
the mind is like a creature
who is hunting for facts, hard
their own back door they will explore
instead of the next yard
the finger pointing backward
as into the tale one delves
is inside out which leaves no doubt
for those who blame themselves
the mind is full of magic
but who's puzzled in the end ?
never sure, the conjurer
who cannot comprehend
is this the work of demons
or the play of happy elves ?
if no such nudge, the sprites are judged
by those who blame themselves
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