The Spark
- Neurospicy Poems
- Apr 28
- 2 min read
Updated: Sep 3
A poem about special interests
By Neurospicy Poems
It starts like static in the air—
a flicker,
a whisper,
a what if.
I don’t choose it.
It chooses me.
A random thing—
a sound, a word, a moment
that lights a match inside my mind.
And then—
I’m gone.
High on the thrill,
like I’ve necked five coffees.
My heart races.
My eyes shine.
I’m buzzing.
Who needs water?
Who needs sleep?
Who needs a tidy house or a to-do list?
I’ve got this now.
This thing,
this glorious thing,
that I want to devour
and wear like skin.
I talk about it like a prophet.
Corner friends and strangers—
“Did you know…? You have to see this!”
I preach, I teach, I spiral
deeper and deeper
until I can’t tell where I end
and it begins.
The world fades out.
It’s just me
and the thing.
And then—
one morning—
nothing.
Like a light switched off.
I don’t mourn it.
Don’t even notice its absence.
The spark is gone.
A new one crackles.
And just like that—
I’m off again.
Wide-eyed.
Heart pounding.
Alive.
——
Author’s Note
“The Spark” is a celebration of something many neurodivergent people know intimately: the intoxicating joy of a special interest.
For me, special interests aren’t hobbies—they’re lifelines. They arrive uninvited but deeply welcome, igniting a kind of passion and purpose that nothing else can replicate. This poem describes the moment one of those interests takes hold—the thrill, the tunnel vision, the euphoria—and how it often fades just as mysteriously as it began.
There’s a sacredness to these experiences that’s often misunderstood. Others may see obsession; I see connection. Others see distraction; I see clarity. Special interests allow me to access my whole self: energised, curious, creative, and alive. This poem conveys that experience through language and honours the unpredictable rhythm of falling in and out of fascination.
It’s also a reminder: just because the spark moves on, doesn’t mean the joy wasn’t real. Every spark leaves something behind. And when the next one comes, I’ll follow it all over again—without shame.
This is not just about special interests. It’s about permission to love something deeply, even if the world doesn’t understand it. ——
Copyright and Usage Notice
© Neurospicy Poems 2025
All Rights Reserved.
Shared under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0
Part of the Neurodivergent Inner Voice Framework™ & taught via the Neurodivergent Voice Method™
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