Weary

So beautiful that my mind is now stretched,
Beyond and around to leave no corners,
So weary it makes me that I have to run slow,
Stop it from wandering across those open pastures,
Where someone sings and I listen.
The dense roads cannot stop me from thinking,
Nor can the constant clamour that clutters,
And leaves virtually no room.
I am so weary that I could drop dead,
But it only makes me want to live more.