The idea darts in and out of focus, teasing you, taunting you.
You follow blindly, knowing not where you are being led. The idea is devious, leading you far from your objective. It holds over you a captivating, mesmerising beauty; it is irresistibly fatal.
The idea intends for you a destination far from the vision you perceive; the closer it takes you, the more difficulty you have in holding on to that precious thought. Eventually, it abandons you entirely; you must find now your own way back to the path from which you strayed.
You struggle on, alone in a desolate wilderness; that sweet memory haunts you, and you curse that the idea ever came into existence.
You know that to be victorious, you must conquer the idea of victory...but nay, there is nothing to be conquered, for such a thing does not even exist.
It is, after all, just an idea...