Thoughts die, the moment they’re touched

Thickening the past when tightly clutched

For the uninitiated, they are hard to catch

The grooming makes us more than a match

Thoughts come to tell a story

That art is ever so transitory

Without them, we’d be bored when asleep

Unless we consciously travel deep

Thoughts make us heavy yet buoyant

The mind makes us blind, not clairvoyant

Without the experience of the depth

We believe this wave’s dubious strength

Thoughts need not become ours

When they’re strangers, life never sours

They are content to be left to their lives

We benefit when the best survives