Idea for a poem

I have an idea…

someone steals all My ideas.

I see them become manifest in the universe, but not through My conscious will.

is it possible to create without being derivative?

expand the pattern without copying it?

I can’t.

is this?

a cacophony of ideas looming at the edges…constantly sliding in and out of My awareness relentlessly…but always there…ready to exist in Our universe.

halted only by escape to another, where memory dies in stories of nameless nonsense

and then They resurface maddeningly, build momentum, and crash against My lowered guard.

both poisonous and beautiful interchangeably, but eventually exhausting…always.

Finally one is claimed by Me as My own.

until we see It existing on Its own…past, present and future

impossible AND unconvincing in Its relationships…with time, over time.

it is then They are truly beautiful and we realize I am jealous.

so I discard Them frustratingly…glaring back into the universe that spawned Them.

and we also shamefully and hopelessly release our own grip to watch It nest elsewhere.

and then we return to our watchtower facing existence in the swarming Space of Ideas, until I forget again.

we watch as They are constantly snatched, plucked, or picked up by all others to hold closely and preciously.

we would add to Their quantity or quality if we could, but cannot.

so we do not claim what I felt as Mine.

and so what of us? what of Me? what……

I have an idea…