Where I find my inspiration, time and time again, is in the tears that I cry. In the realization of potential failure. The collapse of a unity. The hinderance of freedom. And even in the meaningless tears of waste. In all of these, I find expression. Expression will always surface. For even through misery, no one can be contained.

Where I find my inspiration, time and time again, is in the dark of the night. In the cold and empty, I find myself. Where the sky and the mountains appear no different, is where I find clarity. It is where the mere background chants of the air find their way as to be the melody. I find my spark of bright but in the midst of all settled over with darkness. Oh but the happiest of times are to be found when time isn't of the essence, and attentiveness is at a loss of importance. Reason and the world exchange priority in my understanding. Something about the night that makes me feel so pleasantly hidden, enclosed...yet so self exposed, open, vulnerable to passion and experience. A surrender for the better. And in this state, I shall gradually fall to a corporeal sense of sleep, though my thought remains consistent. Bliss.