It begins as a whisper on the wind
Floats like dandelion fluff
Into an open, waiting ear.
It dances through the canal
Tiptoes to the brain
And leaves behind
The heart of its matter
A seed
A seed, an idea
To be watered by inspiration
And sunned by experience
To grow into a thought
And bear the fruits of action.
To be eaten by the many
And digested by the few.
To come forth as words
Which echo throughout the world
Resonating from cacophony to quietude.
Then as whispers, move on the wind
Floating like dandelion fluff once again.