The Pursuit of an Idea
Lost in the sea of his mind
With hands fighting to grasp
Close to what he hopes to find
Getting closer with every gasp
Clawing at at thoughts half-torn
Desperate to reap the harvest with hurry
Of ideas not yet born
And thoughts all together too blurry
But he cannot stop searching
Through the rolling country-side of plans
For the prize and the high shelf it is perching
And the distance the long road ahead spans
With the doors held wide open
And enthusiasm at its peak
Afraid of what will happen
And his future will fore-speak
But the doors shut with a bang
After fighting through the worst of it all
He grew tired of the tune that the piano rang
And went back to the beginning where the thoughts were small
Applaud filled his mind
And his arms turned to wings
His fists and brain began to unwind
The best idea of all, lay hidden in the simplest of things
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