Across the room a coherent thought waivers.
It is mine, but it eludes me. I wish I could reach out to it, to wrap it up in a box with a bow, to give to you. But instead, I look at it quizzically. I wonder if there is enough room for my ego within that thought.
Better to walk away. Thinking gains no merit within my mind these days. I will store them away for some later date and hope that no disguise distorts their meaning when upon my discovery, my old age will swell its size.
Forgive me, that I cannot waste my ego at a time where monsters roam this earth, ever looking for that sharp taste of wisdom.
Even better to give fame where as battles transpire and fires will gouge, leaving me time to simmer in my guilt with kind company.
Then, when I have exhausted all my beauty, I will package up my gift for you. ~Too late has never been overlooked.~ And I will finally see peace for the time. Yet, for now, I wait.