Stupor of Thought

In past thought of stupor,
Or stupor of thought,
A concept before my
Cerebrum was brought.

Are ideas that I think,
Fresh, novel and new,
Or are they just seeds that
Were planted and grew?

Can a mind, made of goo
And ancient decay
Create out of nothing
A something, I pray?

Could a library grand
Be floating around,
Where thoughts and ideas on
Great scrolls may abound?

Does God, with syringe, Force
Them into our brain,
And the smartest just don't
Allow them to drain?

Whatever conclusion
From this query's wrought,
Remember it all just
Began with one thought.