Swarms of Thought

How many of my thoughts, born in a moment of ecstasy, fly around for a day or two and then fall lifeless to the ground. How much of what I think, of what I am will become just words on a page, heaping death in piles around my life. So much life forgotten and ignored. No one cares about these children of my mind. So much wasted effort, so much hidden self. How can I do anything more? Death loves me.

And now the work of resurrection begins