I could have said something much more profound,
and the truth is that it was on the tip of my tongue,
but I didn’t say it.
I thought of all of the paths this thought might go,
through dense woodlands to run through the trees like sap
or gathered into honey that would be reincarnated as the mead of inspiration
of another’s thoughts.
I let the thought drop.
I said something much more simple,
much less creative.
Something that wouldn’t be stolen.
The thought evaporated before it hit the ground,
which is now coated in a thin, light profound dust.