Inspiration

It can heal, but it can also break.

Capricious as it is, we must take it in our hands and use it to breath. It is the key to discovering our true potentials, our life values, and our soul. Some give, some take. Both are greatly respected.

Inspiration is the flare that ignites when an idea is born. Vivacious and lively, it waltzes to melodies unheard by no one but you. 

Just as it is effervescent, it can also kill with just a prick to the heart. 

Competition will never fade in society. It is a part of the daily chores in life, something tough and burdening, but necessary. Without it, the newfangled cannot be crafted and the future will never be restored.

But there are two species of inspiration. One is constructive - it can assist in learning and helps us to become a better person. The deadlier type, of course, persuades us that we will never be good enough, no matter what awaits. It slows us down with a gradual descendo ending with a faint note of ritardando to eventually becoming a grace note, music filled in a moment of silence.

Sometimes communication is muddled along the lines when we criticize, and that can lead to a disaster with no cause. Dreams are destroyed without blood nor knives, only shadows of perspective, nothing more than a figment of imagination. As we reach for the sky, the horizon seems to be the utmost limit.

Nowadays, cures stand available for almost everything, thanks to improved technology over the past few decades. We find it queer that even the most innovative and intelligent people in the world have not discovered medicine for a broken life. The question that arouses above the deafening chaos, "Why?" If drugs can levitate a soul inches from the claws of death, why can't it bring zen to someone who is perfectly healthy on the outside?

Health, of course, is a word with many interpretations, like the trunk of an oak that diverts to dozens of tessellating  branches. Some own health only perceived from the surface, a mask to a chasm of  the stranger unknown below. Others feel youthful spirit in their heart, whereas their body may be weak and fragile. On the end of a twig, there often blossoms a glistening bulb in vain, questions embedded beneath with no answer.

I, like many others, am an optimist,  feeling seamless hope to subjects that seem to bring the infamous alive and flowers to a wasteland. Inspiration, to me, helps me flourish, finally allowing my mind to soar to other realms encased in secrets. I am secluded in a world where I am the judge of who I want to become. That is one choice that I am certain belongs to me, while the others may be bestowed to others, or no one at all.

My message to you? Let inspiration take you on adventures that are renewed so that they are only yours, but never relinquish your grasp so that it brings you down. Poco piu vivo, a little livelier, and life will bring you all you expected it to deliver.ஐ

This article is inspired by Four Seasons, a novel by Jane Breskin Zalben.