Have you any idea?

Stop to think

about the identity of ideas,

where they come from, exactly what they are?

They are children, born to you

that cannot die, unless you, yourself

decide to end their lives.

You brought them into this world

proud of their perfect appearance,

beguiled by their reckless spontaneity 

and spirited optimism

a love that others may not share.

Your ideas are invisible, except to you

enjoying no sense of time nor space,

dormant in their lands if shunned

returning freshly restored

as if on a whim.

Ideas possess no resolutions

and offer only possibilities

that may contort, writhe and strangle

like a serpent if attacked.

Beware of killing an idea, better

shape it to your will, feed it, 

broaden its shoulders, 

polish its ego

await its metamorphosis.

*

© Graham Sherwood 04/2019