Wednesday, February 8, 2012

I think about trees. Roots. Dirt. Leaves. Stems. Branches. Extending outward. Arms open and welcoming. They say "follow your heart. Run!" I step on their toes and they never complain. I pull off the leaves and they never pull back. I climb up and down. There's only me and my tree.

Rooted in me is hope.
I have faith that, if I put everything I have out there
something good will happen.
I have the power of an idea behind me
the ideas are in me
politely knocking on the walls of my skull
"anybody home?"
There is nothing more powerful than an idea.
When an idea is thought to be true
it becomes a belief.
Ideas are only Ideas.
Our heads make up the rest
little holes in the idea are filled with
There is no limitation to an idea

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