I don't know if these thoughts I think are mine. I don't remember when I started thinking them; I don't really remember if there was a point I didn't think them. But still I worry, that they are stolen from you, and my mind has just simply chosen to forget how you were the one to think them first, how you spoke them to me and I eagerly listened, absorbing them into my mind and body and soul and heart. I fear I am a thief and a con man, I have stolen your passion, stolen your beliefs, and now preach them as if they were my own. Or maybe...I have simply borrowed these things. I am only holding onto them, until something new comes along, something that makes more sense to me. When that happens I'm sure I'll return your precious thoughts and soon I'll forget I ever loved them, ever sat there and spent hours alone with them. I'm sorry if it upsets you that I take the inner workings of your mind without permission, but you are my muse, you who shines as brightly as the sun and yet are still so easily gazed upon. You who's voice washes over me and takes me back to a time before guilt and pride and shame ruled me. Please forgive me, I'll return what I have taken shortly, just as soon as I have found another who's thoughts entice me.
Salvadore Dali,
Chihuly,
Nelson Mandella,
MLK Jr.,
J F Kennedy,
Franklin D Roosevelt,
Mother Theresa,
and YOU!