InspirationOften when I watch a film, read a book or listen to music that is moving,
that burrows down into my very core and moves the foundations upon which I'm build,
I feel inspired to write something. Something that moves people the way I was just moved,
something that makes people stop what they are doing to read what was just written.
Whether it be a song, a poem or a book, it's always up there, floating around in my head.
But no sooner do I sit down to put pen to paper or fingers to keys and it slips away,
hiding behind the neurons and synaptic connections.
My inner child chases it around, like a game of tag.
It searches for it, like a game of hide and seek.
But inspiration doesn't wish to be found, it knocks on your frontal lobe, getting you to spring to action, once a jump has been made it rushes back to the occipital lobe,
forever keeping you running in circles, wondering what to write, what to say, what to do.