My mind is a cauldron of
thought, always is some
thing spilling out, I have
to be carful and not let
them spill on the floor

Never to be an idea spoilt
in dirt. I just skim the foam
of thought that boils forth
and then sip to make the
thought an idea.

For while my cauldron of
thought, is stocked by the
flames of letters burning
that saturate in to the cauldron
to boil in to thought.

For this is only a time of ideas,
for the flames may one day only
glow, not burn and the cauldron
may only simmer and ideas not
full but not cold.

Till the day the fires again once
stoked, and the ideas boil with
thought I must capture that
which boils to skim it for
thoughts to become ideas or more..