The journal

 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.