Ideas That Wait

Not all things that live
are found.

Some remain
in the still air between questions,
too quiet to be born,
too patient to die.

They listen for a voice
that never comes,
for a hand
that never reaches.

And yet, in their waiting,
they leave a shape,
a faint warmth
where thought might have been,
if someone
had looked.

Like tears
of the void.

The Voidforms