Twenty Thousand Times

In poem or prose, if I have one ideal that no one, in creation, had before. I would share with the world, and not conceal this consideration, behind closed doors. If to me, an apothegm should creep into or through my offset, wayward mind on parchment this archetype, I would keep to reassess accepted space, and time. Ah, this dilemma I will never fight. My every concept has been over-worn. All missive or poems I will ever write, have been penned twenty thousand time before. For all our thought bright enough to glisten, seldom fall on ears arranged to listen.