The Nonsense of Great First Ideas

Out in the woods, in the bushes and even overhead the clouds
lurks the strangest of creatures.
I’ve been following it for some time, just as many have and always will.

Its frontal cloven hooves cross its hyena hind.
Tail of a lion, or is it just balding? No one knows for sure.
Only few survived long after looking at the strange beast.

Horrifying and confusing it is, for nothing of it makes sense.
Harmless and shy it really is, as only a few know.
Though that’s not what the stereotypes say.

Wingless, yet seen in the sky.
It has no claws to dig, yet in sleeps in burrows it makes.
If it had gills, surely that could be why it’s in the sea.

How dumb is it, but can it be bright?
There must be a reason why it causes madness and sanity.
There has to be a great hive mind inside its misshapen head.

All black eyes, dog ears and tapir snout.
Fangs for eating leaves and a soft voice for battle cries.
Why doesn’t this thing make sense to me?

It wasn’t until I fell asleep or started to cry,
that the thing finally showed itself with a warm nuzzle
only then did something about it make sense.

I can no longer recall what that was and can’t until it returns.
If there’s anything logical that I retained about it,
it’s its love of pens, connection to emotion and dream to be understood.


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