We place our thoughts so neatly,
into the box we make,
which sits upon the shelf of life,
our ego to display.
Sometimes we lift the lid and look,
upon the tangled threads,
of those beliefs we call our own;
to drape around our neck.
Within the dust of time and trust,
we've gathered them as ours,
and yet so often they have come,
from others - not our Souls.