What’s thought a lot is caught not wrought. 

Thoughts can be sought — or bought. 

Thoughts rot, loves not. 

Thoughts like bots come in crazy lots. 

Thoughts fill slots; intuitions fill the spaces around them. 

 Ideate, activate, narrate and celebrate. 

Vacuity, perspicuity, our masterly fatuity. 

Reflection’s predilection is perfection; reality prefers dings, chips and cracks. 

The best possible worlds germinate within rationality and sprout within orderliness.  

Orderly, order be, our tidy mental forgery. 

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