A thought, incomplete
Almost at its
conception
Dies unformed
Another is stillborn
A lost unformed notion
More follow also
fruitless
And unfulfilled
Then little more than
an inkling
Emerges, grows quickly
Surviving into infancy
Only to be lost to
distraction
Many more die unformed
Before a thought is
born
Fully formed and grows
quickly to maturity
But it was a stupid
thought
