An idea floated in on tides of dreams. Enclosed in golden threads of thought and disconcertingly persistent. The waves of imagination lulled me to sleep and there was a moment, between the waking world and sweet slumber, when the idea was all and everything. “Sleep now,” she whispered “and wake with the light; a thing broken by the realization that the idea is gone, lost forever in the corridors of night’s embrace.”
Bountiful Words, Beautiful World 