Intentions

Inside my head,

I hear it plain and loud.

The result so vivid,

I want to bring it about.

Infantile until they emerge,

in my mind they flow and mature.

As action brings into light,

that which seemed obscure.

No evidence but that

which has already transpired,

no residue,

only that I was inspired.

Should this (personal, logical when solitarily confined), be enough to excuse my acts?

[Intentions, quiet contentions. They are the infantile forms of action. And actions are the catalysts to results. We can feel intentions only through actions; pure intentions give off no heat, no smell, no sound. Is it a force to contend with no less?]