Train Of Thought Poem by Graham Stone

List me a quantum of objects
As they float about your mind’s inner eye,
And the tangents you follow
And the conclusions you reach,
Then I shall extend the same courtesy.

For me, thought begins as a literal,
The literal of abstract.
Mere colours, smears and depths
With no limit of distance or time.

Before contours and rigid block begin to form,
Before they break into curves and swirls
Which thought slides along and volume
Emerges from this second dimension,
Erecting about it the third.

But these are thoughts without object,
Substance or care;
Immense in power yet feeble and weak.

Then I give birth to the pregnant
And concept is born, alas
The discernable features of a warped reality
Expand across the universe
Of my mind and so I can begin to think.