He rose with a thought. But he did not pause on it. For now it was a fleeting whisp of an idea to be idly entertained, but soon, soon it would grow into a conclusion of grand proportions, one that would envelope entire countries and city states in its grandeur. He grabbed said idea by the hand and led it down a small muddled hill, aloft with lilacs and lillidads. Soon they reached the edge of the expanse and became upon a wood, a dense wood, a flitter with insects and wildlife among its shrubbery. For short bursts of time or space, whatever you may perceive, his hand would momentarily lose its dreamed mate, sought to float into the tyrannical territories of lost. His lordship proceeded his lawmanry. Once upon a small watering hole he coerced the timid idea to shed its doubtful manner and approach the reclusive looking water. The idea ebbed a slow pattern towards the water, feet rustling the barren outskirts of the lakes aqueous grasp. Shuddered at the idea, he plunged, though timid still brave in spirit. As idea and water copulated two became once, but not as the dirt would muddy water, making it but porous sludge. As tree and ground become one, as a effortlessly tossed cigar butt will once again become from which it was, alas we are not so lucky. But idea began to erupt, filling the entire, now, lake grow even further. Among its encroachment the banks, gather’d horizontally were still overcome with liquid fertility. _______________________________________________________
The Idea soon became more popular than the man. Many would come to the watering hole, to see his daunting conclusion bare faced in its extreme propensity. This ironically in such a wood made him green with envy. It was his idea, praise should come to none but he. But he would retain none such love and gratitude, even as his makings continued to spread to now edges of the globe. Everyone now entertained his idea, but they didn’t know nor did they care about the man who gave them it all. Soon he concluded once again, small however. Another grand idea would surely ruin the one I created before, then those thespian fucks who ignored me before will shudder in my brilliant resilience. But wait, would it not be possible for new ideas though maybe better and more engrossing not cast the same line of fate that was brought with my last. He had a new idea. After the hardware was purchased and rope hung amply around the thickest knobbish branch of some popular poplar or pine, he strew himself to hang amidst his idea forever. Ironically his feet did not touch the water even though his legs did reach it. His idea no longer wanted to be associated. Maybe blood isn’t thicker than water.
Firstly I just want to state, you must have a very high vocabulary because most of those words I haven't even thought of. 
I sort of feel embarrassed for admitting it.
Have fun and keep writing this was really good.