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Poem

Cotton candy castles

When you look closely at an idea,
it has no weight.
The holes seem to weigh
more than the thought itself
The idea can never happen.
It can never be real.
It is too preposterous,
too stupid.
The light is shined into
the cavity of a brain, and
the ideas melt away like
bits of spun sugar melting
in your mouth. Small, Insignificant
Fluff never to be seen again.
You try to save the fluff.
Keep it from the light.
But no matter how 
the idea hides, it cannot
escape the scrutiny of the
world. The idea flees
from the light, and 
collides with another
idea fleeing the same fate.
The holes from one idea
fill in the holes of the other.
The idea grows 
Bigger, and collides
with more ideas. Their
holes gaining more and
more weight until
they are what the world calls
concrete.
Now the idea is something
to be reckoned with.
The idea could change the
world. It could bring an
alternate eternity
into life. The idea could
do ANYTHING.
It continues to grow
little spun fibers of
fluff gathering speed,
gathering power, gathering
weight.
Until the weight is too
much to hold the holes
together, and the idea
is scattered, like fluff
in the wind. The weight
of the wholes, is more than
the weight of the idea.

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