Inspiration had always been this fleeting cloud-like substance in my life. It weaves itself in and out at a time and pace all it’s own. When it casts it’s light in my direction all my dreams are set on fire. It’s a manic period of energy and ideas and plans and unbridled hope. In those moments I see the world laid out at my feet. Then it’s over. The energy, hope, ideas, they all subside. I’m left with remnants, half executed plans laced with fear. That’s what it comes down to isn’t it. That is the great divide. There are those who harness all that inspiration provides and those who let it slip away. Right now, I’m on the wrong side.