Dead ideas
Lives cut short
By untimely tasks
Interjected in mid stream
They lie strewn all around my mind

They are footsteps in the snow
They fade away in the sun
Or in the blizzard’s
Wind they fill
They go

It is not
The pace of life
Not the interruptions
It has to be my inattention
The inability to stand firm and complete

It is never the destination that we love
It is always the completion I crave
Moving through my mind
Precisely tied in a
Neat bow

One day
I will stop trying
To complete a thought
Walk my stream of consciousness
Resurrecting every one of my dead ideas

©Paul Viel 2007