Inspiration

Walking the lonely pathway on a still dark night I visit the illusion of street lamps disappearing round the corner. The curve of a brilliant arc that eggs me on to take the next step. Is it the fear of darkness that my steps falter or is it this  heady concotion of  a potent self belief that wells in my mind? I do believe the mind was inspired from the fading music of movie just watched or was it the last sips of a late night coffee from a chipped mug? Such inspiration, nay sayers tell me, is folly. It dwells , they say , in somnolent passion that once aroused connects the mind to the heart. And is it not that every folly of man stems from the heeding of the heart and the denial of a cool rational mind? 

But what would it be like without inspiration? Maybe like the involuntary shiver that runs through a body when opening a window on a chilly morning one sees a concrete wall of the neighbouting skyscraper. Or like the lengthening shadows of a scarlet dusk that forces one to run only to be swallowed up by the inevitable night.  Or maybe it is the vile sentiment of closed doors on this starlit night that do not fail to remind me of what lies ahead and what lay behind.

I shake my head with violence as I say these words aloud..'Inspiration is music. Inspiration is the color of life. Inspiration is the orchestra of senses .. It is what makes me believe that this ethereal pathway of glittering beauty is more than just a gaggle of street lamps on a gray road in a cold night'