In Theory

Brilliance here I cannot write, 

because [we pause] ... I'm not that bright, 
but brilliant thoughts are present, right 
here, where there is a brilliant light 
that shines divinely, like a bright white 
star. They are your thoughts, and I might 
shout about them from some great height, 

or write a rhyme worthy of your cite,

because [...] I’m not that bright.

I write as an experiment,

just wondering where care is sent
when someone cares enough to cast
their cares away like this, the last

and final time a rhyme I write
will grace this space amidst these bright
and shining faces, Noms du plum,
wits with promise in this room,

this group, this troupe of bon vivants
and ne'er do wells, who spell their taunts
and praise to raise the banner high
for those who'd write, or even try

to say something; use care-filled words
to make their sounds profoundly heard;
who'd pass along their songs and thought
to where such songs and thoughts are sought.

I'm running out of time and space,
so carefully I leave this place

to you who would continue on 

with words, after mine are long gone.