A Minefield Of Thoughts Poem by Daniel P Martin

Thoughts burst upon us,
Like some interactive soot ‘em game,
Sometimes villains,
Sometimes good guys,
Sometimes hostages in need of rescue.
Fictitious is the mind devoid of all pollutant,
And the responsibility is squarely on our shoulders,
The burden of discretion, decision and action,
Or the knowing passiveness and inaction
Flippancy is the greatest of dangers,
With one life, dancing on a knife-edge,
Most of us recognise the bad guys instantly,
And the trigger of suppression is swiftly pulled,
Re-load,
Equally, most white knights are offered safe passage,
But what of the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing,
How is this devious imposter to be recognised?
Because all it takes can be one covert rouge gaining entry,
And it could be game over.
But our history and our very genetic make-up,
Are ongoing evidence of the possibility and the reality,
For despite the villains, the rouges and the secret agents,
Mankind is crammed full of good, wholesome Humans,
Who, on autopilot, shoot, kill and re-load,
In the blink of an eye,
Guiding their soul safely through a minefield of thoughts,
To live lives worthy of their existence,
And to act as radiating beacons of evidence,
Giving those crippled by fear and hesitation,
The Hope, the Optimism and the Confidence, to live.