His mind is a never-ending factory of words next to a pit;
Always generating thoughts, almost always forgotten if not written.
A mind sometimes ravaged by storms;
Storms that mostly last a minute but leave considerable impairment.
A mind that is significantly calm;
As calm as the wind in the eye of a raging storm.
A mind that is crippled;
But longing to take wing.
Photo not mine. Credits to the owner