A thought comes to me
And I can't help but write it down
Lest it troubles my mind
Keeps it confined
To repetitive, uninterrupted, cycles
All in the hope of preserving thoughts
Like priceless merchandise:
A currency of the immortal kind.
For though I die,
My thoughts live on,
In my poems, my stories, and my songs.
For though I live,
I keep them safe,
In a place where prying eyes can only see,
the manifestations of my thoughts and dreams
when I give them my consent,
to read the writings of my soul's content.
A thought comes to my mind
I hope I have the time
To write it down,
Before eternal slumber takes me away
And my thoughts no longer see the light of day.