The core of consciousness a flourishing canopied tree
Thought streams branching in every way, vying for forefront attention
Monkeys shake the branches, amplifying the otherwise ambient noise
A chaotic mental tempest only you can see.
A troop of screeching monkeys
Haphazardly migrating from limb to limb
Causing the mind to vapor lock, the brain to freeze.
Baboons of our own devise.
Meticulously cultivated through practiced patterns of self-doubt.
Gaining sustenance from the fruits of our attention
Ultimately attributing to our own demise.
Digressing to irrelevancies, the monkeys are a mire
Seeking to keep us sinking and focused on trivialities
While tangible issues remain unresolved
Frozen indecision is to what they aspire.
Monkey mind, like a bonsai tree, should be carefully tended
Poisonous thoughts trimmed like dead branches
Cast aside after logical consideration
Attention refocused anew, consciousness mended.