ideas 1

          roy herndon smith

Ideas are like galaxies of little intuitions, a confused thing . . . which is continually changing . . . they are a marvelous mess. . . . provisional apparitions of infinity . . . 
—Alessandro Baricco


it galumphs in
and sprawls among the wallflowers
who wilt while waiting

for a glance or more
from a dancer in the crowd
hogging the spotlight

when everyone collapses
into a heap, it sings
like cicadas

shimmering waves
of rising and falling colors
of dreams and darkness

when, in morning light
all drift into messy wakefulness
it fades

into an easily overlooked
apprehension of something

you don't find it 'til you gasp 
as you feel it breathing
you in and out