A Fleeting Thought

I don't expect you to read this. I am merely just another voice, not a whimper, not a roar. "It is wrong to say I think, one should say I am thought. I is somebody else. I am present at the birth of my thought. I draw a stroke of the bow, the symphony stirs in the depths, or comes with a leap to the stage. It begins with waves of disgust, but it ends- as we cannot immediately seize this eternity- it ends in a riot of perfumes." -Loosely translated, by Arthur Rimbaud