the unquiet mind

The mind is its own place,
And it is its own domain,
Where it can make a celestial palace
out of hellish dungeon,
and vice versa.

Or so it says, or so it believes.
But what about a void filled with
howling of a soul lost in darkness
not knowing where to find the light
to figure out whereabouts of the soul?

Alas, the mind is at a loss,
a loss that cannot even know
where the mind can be at ease,
that seems to be in labyrinth fraught
with pebbles on the ground and webs
in the sight that I must huddle thru
to reach the meaning of my life.
There my mind can be at rest at last.