I was formless and ethereal; floating on the fringes, elusive.
I made you restless. Was I a memory, a fantasy, a dream?
You tossed and turned in your sleep, were lost to the world in your waking hours. Your longing to make me yours became your only goal.
One day, when I assumed you were inattentive, I came tantalisingly close. Your alert spidery arms caught and dragged me in.
I was examined thoroughly, washed clean to reveal my essence, dressed up to enhance inherent qualities, and presented to all.
You had given birth to your thought and, I was born.