Sometimes my mind boils,
filled with ideas to work on,
filled with criteria to comment on.
A thought might be a single dew falling
from the sky,
resting on the edge of an unknown leaf,
But you never know,
there might be thousands following it,
liking the idea,
judged on rationale,
filling the surrounding like a fog and
mist,
penetrating each corner,
settling on each edge,
wetting every surface.
Refresh, that's what it do,
Until it rots again,
and waits for another dew,
to rest on the edge of an unknown leaf.
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