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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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