Sounds of mind

Mind out!

My ego-mind abhors this mosquito,

boring through the silence of the night,

and soon through my skin,

robbing me of blood and slumber

with its promise of itch

and its thin-pitched din.

But my wiser mind is well aware

she has no clue that it's me who is here.

Mommy mosquito, engrossed in her programme,

has larvae to think of, and smells in my person

just a hunk of supper.

Here lie I, rightly longing for quiet;

there flies she, rightly seeking her diet.