A dust storm of optimism

In the dust of a creative storm
an idea
swirling around with many friends
It was hard to recognize
One minute it was there
the next whirling among the crowd
They all looked the same
yet I knew I had to have the idea
Nothing else would do
I clutched at it blindly
hoping it might find me
as I searched for it
lost in my own crowd
my own dust storm of optimism
a million story tellers deep

In the dust of a creative storm
an idea
If I could separate it from the cloud
it would be the one for me
I did not realise at the time however
that in the idea
lay a story
the story
Everybody was reaching for it
My hands bounced off theirs
theirs off mine
The hands that were competing
could not write the idea the way I would
How could they?
They had not lived the story the way I had

The idea was unique
It had to be lived before a poet could write it
No author had this in his head
It was an idea
on the wind
an idea in a dust storm
and many chose the easy path
looking for a needle in a haystack

I followed the dust storm
and here I am
tired and dirty
with a pocket full of ideas
hoping one of them is the one

© Bernard J Rossi