I fill my pen with ink
and sit in my desk to think.
A myriad of thoughts
and ideas congregate,
each as better than the other
they masquerade.
Then the thoughts flow on paper,
the foggy ones I try to taper;
sometimes I lose a good one in a blink
as I pen down another in a brink.
I try to keep my writing short,
tying few sentences into a knot.
There are times when I tend to fail,
as I watch the nib incessantly sail.
When I’m done, I read it out
in my head and not out loud.
And I realise each paragraph
is a thought kernal,
together they knit up
my thought journal.
© Barnadhya Rwitam
