Inspiration,
it is difficult to find,
to create something out of nothing,
to seek something from outside
to complement the inside,
to say something
that has already been said
so that it appears
to be something new.

Inspiration is more than images
callously thrust together
without synchronicity
just to generate a feeling of ‘maybe’:
an image like a dumpster
full of someone else’s garbage,
a feeling like a prairie storm
full of static power,
a hope like a seed germinating
and sending a new shoot out
to greet the light,
the dove daring to love.

Inspiration is striving
to change the garbage to energy,
and the energy to a thought,
a thought to hope,
the hope to love.
Then love becomes the reason
to get up again and keep on trying.

But inspiration is not about trying;
it is about being.

A gentle breeze blows in
off the Salish Sea
sweeping the waters
into a thousand shades of blue.
My eyes drink.
My ears savour.
My skin devours.

I am alive again.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
I am alive again.
I have wined and dined
on Mother Earth’s table.
My body can run again.
My mind can renew its journey.
My soul can inspire.