It's not so much a thing that was
As what may be
A possibility
Powerful in potential
Losing all drive and energy
As it comes to fruition
No longer a thing that could be
Merely something that is
Reality the pale shell
Of an idea.
An experiment, to see if I am capable of writing one poem a day for an entire year. Readers are welcome to comment on the work, or post their own work in response.