Draw upon the clouds with rain and feel inspired
Write across the ocean with scraps of shell
If anyone tries to stop you give them hell
These are your dreams and they will fly
Your pen is the wind, and your paper the sky. 

Inspiration has many faces, many names, many shapes, many personifications. 

Sometimes I find inspiration in the little girl from ten years ago, running down the gravel road with her best friend panting beside her. Racing through the wheat to the center of the field, and falling down to look at the clouds, using Bear's fur as a pillow. Trying to see more than just clouds and shapes. I find inspiration in reflecting back to how her mind operated, and how she felt. 

Sometimes inspiration is found in emotions. In sadness, in despair, hopelessness, joy, content. 

I find most of my inspiration in words. There are no meaningless words, in my world. Every word carries a meaning, even the lies; especially the lies. People will say words that mean nothing to them, but even that means something. 

I find inspiration in contemplation. I will spend hours contemplating a single word. What does it mean to me? How would I best explain it? How would I portray it? What sort of imagery runs through my mind when I think of that word? 

I find inspiration in people. I love hiding in a big leather chair in a corner at Starbucks, chewing on my pen and watching people go by. I love unleashing my imagination and inventing entire biographies and stories around people; series of events that have brought them to this place, at this time. I do not believe in chance. I believe everything happens for a reason. I sometimes find inspiration in wondering how I could change the entire course of life, by simply breaking the chain of what is expected. If I were to address any one of those people, and begin conversation; what would happen. If that one action would spark an entire new chain, and leave me reflecting on that one moment, twenty years later, wondering what would have happened if I had never spoken to that person, the person beside me now, who has become such an important part of my life. 

I find inspiration in the hunger for more knowledge. I find inspiration in great minds and thinkers. My inspiration over the past several months has fed almost solely off Edmund Burke's "Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful". It is a magnificent work, and incredibly inspiring. Many writers inspire me. I feel that an author has failed, if they have not been able to let their inspiration shine through in their work. If they have not been able to pour themselves into what they have created. I am not saying that they have to inspire me, for that is not always the point. But the writer should be inspired. 

Whenever I think of inspiration, four words come to mind, every time. I cannot contemplate about inspiration, without thinking of them. They jump before my eyes without fail, constantly. They create one of the most inspiring sentences I have ever heard. They may seem insignificant to others, but they mean everything to me. They are the words of Socrates. 

Wisdom begins in wonder.

To wonder, is everything. 

I apologize that though I choose to write about inspiration, I can offer no example of such tonihte. Some things written are simply not meant to be displayed.