Inspiration soaks deep between bone and marrow,
Daring you to ask for its origin,
Marrying itself to the inside voice until fingers bleed out its luscious, beautiful demands.
It waits on windowsills for lost souls to catch the infection.
It entangles whomever it wishes,
Ensnares even the most hopeless of broken-winged angels
Until their voices echo the depths of its beauty.
It cradles the week,
Soars with dreamers,
And rests with the content.
You can’t hear or see its shifting form,
But its touch will leave you heaving and tingling from the bite of something too grand for words.
Let it make you sweat and question and love and hate,
Let it move and stir and expand and still your mind.
Let it be the wild, captivating siren that it is.
Inspiration soaks deep,
Always restless for your curiosity to explore its limits,
Always living inside of you.