NEURAL SOUL

The Brain, with all its networks,
and routes and compounds,
can contemplate the vastness of the cosmos,
and often overlooks its own condition.

This object, so small,
So odd,
a natural marvel of bioengineering.

Glia,
scrub and isolate, Like glue between the wires.
Tweaking and cleaning the tangle.

Neurons,
Billions gripping,
like little hands in a circle of trust.

And between these circuits and switches,
with use they gain strength,
with neglect they die.

As flowers
As pets
As children

With the fiery tingling of my Neural Soul, 
I am blissfully awake, 
but chemically
unaware.

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