My thought
As I see
Frequently and often
Will abandon me
It arrives at times
With a knock at my door
And sometimes when
I am getting ready to snore
Sometimes it will, with
Many thoughts merge
And soon thereafter
It will diverge
It contains me
As feelings swing
Then suddenly gives
A hope to cling
Sometimes rich, then poor
Often modest and
Then on occasion
Brilliantly grandeur
In crowds
Solitude it may pretend
In silence present
A different trend
It makes me
Relish a divine state
Casts a spell
And then abate
In turmoil, my
Conscience it will awaken
Tough to tell what it renders
And what it has taken
Takes me out
Of religious litany
Beyond the horizon
Into spiritual epiphany
Slowly it may creep
Sometimes a fast quest
Within its shroud
My emotions will arrest
It may not come
At times upon request
And then sometimes
Lingers on, like an unloved guest
I am not my thought
And my thought is not me
Without it however
It is not to be
I know my thought
Will often times abandon me
And then I long for it
To return to me.