From where does inspiration come? Is it the same for everyone or do we come by inspiration in ways meant only for one? Perhaps it is a little of both.

I have found myself repeating some phrase I (over)heard or saw and later it becomes part of something else as more words form around. Something from a conversation sticks in my mind and a poem is born. Sometimes, while out walking, whether it be near a lake or along a busy city road, things I see bring thoughts and feelings to the surface. Other times I have been reading, lying in the dark, taking a shower, listening to music, driving the back roads and words will enter my mind and I know they need a place to go. It is all things in life(the very marrow of life)- the color, the silence, the sounds, the sorrow or happy, the dark and the light where inspiration waits to be found or as is often the case... pounce.

From the poem "Inspiration" by Henry David Thoreau:

Such is the Muse, the heavenly maid,

The star that guides our mortal course,

Which shows where life's true kernel's laid,

It's wheat's fine flour, and its undying force.

May the Muse guide you and inspiration find you always. May you be open to hearing and feeling it all when it does come.

There is a relationship with words I have felt for as long as I can remember. A silent symbiotic existence I have come to rely upon and appreciate. 

In the silence and solitude of life, I hear them. Within the colorful and happy moments, I observe them. Everywhere and in everything I feel them. They call, I answer. They pull and guide, I follow and learn. They prod and encourage, I test and become. 

It isn't easy or always known where the echo of words will take me, but I know when the words come I must find a way to arrange them. This isn't a calling, but a necessity; for me if no one else. Within and because of words I feel a wholeness, an allowance for being truly myself. They offer a level of solitude I require. And a camaraderie I seek.

Maybe at the end of it all, the only thing to be said is I lived through them and perhaps they found life through me. And if so, it is enough; for me if no one else.