Ideas arrive like small sparks

Not enough to light a fire

But bright enough to to distract you

Some cling to the edges of your thoughts

Thin as spider webs

Trembling with the weight of expectation

Others stagger around aimlessly and fall into oblivion

Ideas do not come with a manual or a tool kit to finish the build

They do not explain themselves

They press against your silence

Asking to be acknowledged

Not seeking approval

Simply wanting recognition

Left untouched they will fade away

Leaving a feint trace

A memory of what might have been

Embraced ideas will sometimes flourish

Especially if you develop them with a passion

Occasionally emerging from the sea of your imagination onto the dry land of reality

Waiting patiently for that inevitable question at a dinner party

And where are you from?

Replying

I was just an idea before