Platypus Treasure: Strange Platypus(es)

Do you remember being a child?  Do you remember making some new discovery and rushing with it to the nearest adult you could find?  You tried to make them see how absolutely astounding it was but the words wouldn't come.  Maybe they smiled at you.  Maybe you got a pat on the head.  Maybe you were just ignored.  It happens again as you get older.  Think of your teenage self: a whirlwind of confusion.  Expectations are everywhere; desires, longings.  Once again, you try to tell someone but the words won't come.  You're laughed at -ignored.  The moment passes.  The thing slips away and is lost.  Perhaps you experienced this in college.  You had a better command of words now, it was just a matter of finding the right ones and putting them into the right form.  Words slipped, caught, and broke, falling through your fingers and with them the thought, the discovery.  Then career came with the whirl of adult responsibilities.  Discoveries were limited to one's field and had to be articulated in clear, company prose or they became worthless, outdated, overhead, waste.  The words got the better of you and slipped away.

I found something once, and I didn't have the words for it.  I tried to show it to others but they laughed, grew bored, and turned it into a cliche.  It was my fault.  I couldn't find the right way to say it.  I didn't have the words to help them see.  So I keep searching, keep looking, keep struggling, to find just the right turn of phrase, the right form.  It's been years, but I don't doubt my discovery.  I doubt myself.