ideas drift like stars,
weightless messengers
wandering from mind to mind,
patiently waiting
for someone to listen,
to hold them,
to bring them to life.

They bounce across our hearts,
echoing the same spark
in many souls at once,
a chorus of thought
singing in unison —
so many dreamers
catching the same note of wonder.

But where do thoughts go
when we forget them?
Where do those half-born sparks
retreat,
when our minds turn away?

Maybe nothing is lost.
Every abandoned dream,
every word left unspoken,
returns to a hidden place,
a cosmic library
where forgotten things rest
like sleeping seeds,
waiting for another season
to bloom again.

They gather there,
in a graveyard made of hope,
where the mind forgets,
but the universe remembers —
every spark held gently
until a new heart
is ready to claim it.

It makes us part of something vast,
this secret dance
of minds and stars,
a quiet knowing
that what we lose
is not truly gone,
only resting
in a place beyond memory,
where lost thoughts sleep
until they rise
once more.