The Stream

I feel like a kid wading across a stream, stoping to try  to look through the ripples for treasures to pull out along the way.

It's gotten easy to imagine that ideas are the pebbles at the bottom, beautiful and sparkling, but unclear. 

I have to pick and choose which pebbles to reach for, and when pulled to the surface many are not what I thought they would be, dull and lacking the glow promised, but some are unsurpassed by none but their brothers.

And sometimes I have to let my pebbles sit in the sun before I make judgement... 

Im left hoping that my pebbles will become my stepping stones to someplace new.