It Was

It was 

It was an idea
It was beautiful in the beginning, open, complex, full of life.
But then It got hurt, It lost something important.
And then It started losing bits and pieces as those around it picked at It,
Whittled It away until It was almost nothing, and then forgot.

And then It was.
It was just an idea, damaged, alone in the back of the mind,
dull, grey, twisted, broken.
It lost sight of what It once was, what It could have been,
And It was lying among the darker, older thoughts,
The memories and the other concepts, long forgotten
And It waited. Dull, grey, twisted, broken.

But then something changed.
It waited an eternity, a year, a second, and it was again.
Something found it, or it found something, and now it is.
It emerged from the shadow, agony, rising to form something new.
Reaching, striving, asking, wanting.
It became bright, and new,
It saw what it truly could be, and what it should be
And It knew what was really possible.

It forgot. Forgot the broken, the shame, the emptiness,
Forgot the feeling and never-ending spiral, but remembered,
Oh It remembered what it was, what it said it never would be again.
It discovered the bright, shining, glowing, possible.
and It changed. It was important.
The possibilities of a plethora of additional ideas,
The swirling cosmos of the mind and the universe around It
And just how It could fit in. How It could be important.

And It grew. And It worked. And It evolved,
Until the dispirited, dejected shell of what It once was was ultimately gone
And all anything would ever see of It again
Was bright, shining, glowing, possible.

And It is.