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

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