March 19, 2013
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Here’s the thing about ideas.

They come to you in those precious, sacred, quiet moments
You know, when you’re in the shower
Or in those brightly colored moments
Which come right before sleep
Or when you’re sitting on the train,
Watching the rain dash itself violently against
The window
The droplets like little kamikaze pilots

And you softly cradle the sweetness of
The thing that’s come from your mind
And it looks back at you,
With wide, innocent, glistening eyes
And you love it
With your whole mind, your whole body, your whole heart.

You NEED to share it
To show it off
But the second you say your idea out loud,
It gets up
And it can go live on its own
It can walk off, if it so chooses,
And leave you.
Be its own idea
Leaving your arms
And cold

We learn.
We learn to keep our ideas
From transforming themselves
Into words
Which make them real, and give them life
And let them flutter around in our heads
Until their fragile wings grow weak and limp

But here’s the thing about ideas.

They DEMAND to be shared
So that they wriggle out of your clutching fingers
And out your mouth

And sometimes,
Right before they walk away
And leave you forever,
They’ll turn
And wave

And you’ll wave back

And watch them grow into things that are

Even if they’re not yours

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