In a world of busy things,
Of cars, and flying thing with wings,
Stress and business, words that sing,
Things get lost that once were dreams.
How do you capture these allusive thoughts,
Keep the good ones,
Bad ones toss?
Will they hover for one moment,
And then are lost?
Inspiration hits like thunder
Then they busy brain can blunder
Where did idea go in wordless wonder?
Always carry that butterfly net
To catch ideas that flutter,
Before their fire sets.
And by the wind freedom has let.
Your net might be made
Of paper and pen
Stuffed in a pocket,
Ready at a whim.
A cell phone for notes,
A voice recorder raised to your chin.
Be on the hunt and capture those flybys
Don’t let them go
Don’t let them die.
Maybe it means a simpler life
That doesn’t bottle-neck the brain
In a time of great anxiety and strife.
(I deal with this daily, just ask my wife.)
More than ever we need those wings,
Those inspired paintings,
Those songs, those dreams.
What kind of world would it be.
If people didn’t dream beyond what their eyes can see?
It would be dead, boring, and minus
(Um, well my net catches new words and I display them in stories for the world to see, you see?)