The poem
Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting of already existent ideas I despise that self-important game. Thought is the welling up of unknown life into consciousness, Thought is the testing of statements on the touchstone of consciousness, Thought is gazing onto the face of life, and reading what can be read, Thought is pondering over experience, and coming to conclusion. Thought is not a trick, or an exercise, or a set of dodges, Thought is a man in his wholeness, wholly attending.
Your poem inspires not me but my under cofident independent inspiration, my thoughts on thought are that it was very reassuring that someone else feels as I do but never whants to feel the same or remain, but remain in itself can develope into untouched mental cabilities.