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.