Birth of An Idea

These are the words of a British mad scientist who sometimes visits me late at night... They must be read in the dark, with only a flashlight and sincerely dramatic overtones. This is essential, as you will not comprehend its magnificence otherwise.
Ideally, you, the reader, would be John Vincent Hurt on the brink of a massively deluded discovery. But if not, I suppose I can forgive this oversight...
Oh, but tread lightly, chums! Do not hold tightly to your sanity...

(Um, flashlight, dark, British accent?)

Birth of an Idea

Tonight
Lying awake
Unable to sleep
It pulls itself silently through the fissure of my thoughts
Between logic and reason
Like smoke slipping through the crack in a doorway
Into the unseen recesses of my mind.

Once
Through the crack
It transforms itself into molten honey
Burning away confusion
Melting the apparition of insecurity
Nourishing and sweetening
Endless possibilities.

Eventually
Like a stone
That has been tumbling through a stream for eons
It catapults itself over the precipice of recognition
Transforming once more
Into a cascade
Of liquid diamonds.

Finally
It rains down
Holographic shards of understanding
Microcomputers of connections
Neuro-synaptic nuances of discernment
Again, into this mind
That is now teeming with revelation...

Twinkling, Twinkling, Twinkling
I have an idea!

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