Inspired

Some days are a dry well,

An empty conversation:

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Didn't we go through this yesterday?

Sometimes you’re not inspired.

The place where you live in your brain is dying for a scrap of sustenance.

“I never could write about him,” she said.

“There was nothing to write, because there was nothing to live.”

Yet,

Sometimes, there is a touch.

A spark.

Someone says a word,  

Like “cherish” or “reverie,”

And you come alive.

Your pen flows freely across the paper,

Or your fingers across the keys,

And you just know…

Life was meant to be so much more than drudgery,

Blank conversations

And repetitive days.

Life was meant to be lived

Inspired.