The Echo in My Head Wasn’t Just Mine

 Dedicated to my co-travellers past, present and future

I sat down to think, quite proud of my mind,
Ideas were swirling, uniquely refined.
A vision! A flash! A spark in the gloom—
Till doubt tiptoed in and re-entered the room.

"Will it work?" I asked, chewing my pen,
"It's brilliant… or rubbish? Maybe again?"
I pondered, I paced, then peeked through the glass—
Were others stuck too in this question-mark class?

A colleague nearby was mumbling a rhyme,
Another was doodling, wasting good time.
Yet all of us sensed, like a brainwave ballet,
That something was forming beyond just "okay."

"Do they see what I see? Or see that I’m mad?"
"Is their silence support? Or do they think I’m a cad?"
"That idea of mine—did it land or just flop?"
"Should I press on with passion or bring it to a stop?"

But then came a chuckle, a nod, a loud "Wait!"
A merging of minds that recalibrates fate.
My half-baked metaphor met their sly twist,
And together we conjured a storm from the mist.

Their doubts danced with mine in a curious jig,
My tiny seed bloomed into something quite big.
Where once were lone thoughts in cerebral repose,
Now ideas linked arms like some well-written prose.

So I laugh at the myth of the lone genius myth,
That solitary lightning bolt struck by a “smith.”
Turns out that innovation’s a bit of a stew,
Made of "me" and of "you" and our shared point of view.

And feelings, oh feelings, those squishy old things,
Insecure trembles with hopeful heartstrings—
They mixed and they muddled till suddenly clear:
We’re braver together when thinking is near.

So here's to the magic of collective confusion,
The chorus of minds in a maelstrom collusion.
If I ever again feel too proud or too clever,
I’ll remember it’s we who make brilliance together.