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This Thought

This thought,
borne spontaneously on the wings of surprise,
concepted momentaneously in a universe of seemliness,
quivers ‘twixt both recognition and an instantaneous demise,
beckons to be echoed in my consciousness,
or even bequeathed eternity by God’s uncreated devise.

This thought,
rambling through the corridors of my creation,
no consciousness of its precarious being or worth,
osmosizing with the marrow of my feelings and emotions,
synthesizing with the enchanting universe of darkness and
mortal earth.

This thought,
born of freedom,
yet destined for enslavement
in an utterance of intended meaning,
its own or a mere link in chains of thinking,
perceiving, believing, deceiving,
whirling through infinities of possibilities,
perchance to be whispered as a prayer
or liberated as a sigh,
bonded in love of another
or hurled in a fury of hatred nearby.

The choice
is mine,
all mine,
to will
and seal.

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Langston Hughes


Comments (1)

Deep. Words more than a thought - but then isn't that how incredible creation is?