A love note to ideas

I worry about -

- not having enough space for you

- the available mindspace not being fertile enough for your nourishment. Like a middle aged Indian aunty fussing over a houseguest

- the confines of my mind not being enough for you to be conjured with the sass and spontaneity they show in movies. No fiery a-HA! moment would be possible because of all my careful caution

- not being open enough and rejecting you without reasoning

You're just an idea who will -

- pay only as much rent as would be the agreement 

- take up only so much space as per my consent 

- continue your tenancy for only as long as I want you around 

- stay conspicuously absent unless I bring you front and center to the living room of my head

You're just an idea who could -

- breathe new life into old, likely rusty, chains of thought

- delicately or assertively rubbish old comfortable notions 

- change the way I feel about the morning sun 

- radically impact my sense of humour about life 

- fuck with my deep seated complacency 

I see you for what you are while you're outside my mind -

- defenseless

- standing on just the one leg

- hopeful

- a stranger not entirely in disguise

- cleverly trying to create familiarity 

- as if you need me more than I do

But if I let you in, all I have to do is -

- welcome you with fortification and whole hearted acceptance

- not question you or be so suspicious of your motives

- understand how potent you could be to aligning or altering the other solid ideas you will make your acquaintance

So I just need to be aware of the fact that

- you can only be brought to life with my adoption of you

- you can't sustain outside of my brain for too long as time is fleeting 

- you rarely make a stop like meteors from a big bang

- you chose, of a billion other minds, mine to visit

- you're already mine, regarless of whether you'll belong in my mind 

- you are precious, and you have purpose, just like the mind you intend to inhabit