Random thoughts fly through my head in spirals,
Never deigning to land on any one.
Each goes through a set of petty trials,
Fluttering back and forth until ‘tis done
Imagination, what a happy thing!
Tiresome when making decisions,
why must it so many ideas bring?
With picture upon picture, and visions?
Fin'lly it comes, the right one, it's perfect!
Contentment comes o'r me, I'm satisfied,
The outcome is well, I feel in a sect,
This feeling of gladness is rarefied!
My conclusion is, "it is hard to reach,
The idea that works is hard to beach!"
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