Too much contemplation is a sin
As serious as murder, for it will,
With subtle overthoughts covertly kill
The bright impulses that by leaps begin
To give life meaning. Too much thought will pin
A living hope to paper, make it spill
Its glory into dullness, and so still
Whatever breath it had, and turn its skin
Into a trophy stuck upon a wall.
Let thoughts be thoughts and fly off into air
And let them, if they chance to tumble, fall
For beauty only happens when you dare
To let the moment happen once for all,
Instead of hoarding it with too much care.
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