I had what I thought was a brilliant idea for a poem, once, a short while ago it crafted itself slowly up my spine and into the quietest parts of my brain where I try to spend most of my time as I went to align wispy thought with centered, cemented object an unavoidable task popped up that demanded my attention and distracted me from starting my piece and just like that, my brilliant, invisible moment in time was released back into the atmosphere it is probably hanging around air plane wings and dreaming of things far more important than cloud stuff I have noticed a measurable pattern akin to this idea that if we do not act on our conscious thought, it can, in a moments' notice, be whisked away from us while we are and while we breathe and exist, that voice in our minds can come and go as it pleases we should try our hardest to grasp what we can, maybe or maybe we should be thankful for the pieces we are allowed to fit together into a thing called life I don't know, I don't know it disappeared into thin air