Catching an Idea
I am conciousness
sitting on a string, woven into another string and that attached to every string
to hold up the center
of my being
I connect the dew drops, spinning with new, and exciting inspiration
I finger my fountain pen, scrawl ink into the tree
But sometimes they fall
into the deep, dark chasm, where my mind sits at night and sometimes when I am awake too.
and
I go blank
and I can't recover it
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