Inspiration
Is such a delicate thing,
Such an intricate dance
Between emotions and ideas,
A soft sparkle
That flashes when you least expect it,
That sometimes you can only see
When you squint and will
Yourself to catch a glimpse,
And that sometimes
You can’t see at all.
There are times you’re content
With whatever it is you’re doing,
But something will gleam
And all you can do
Is cup it in your hands around the spark
And nurture it
And protect it from anything that
Could make it fizzle out,
Let each spark that crackles
Beckon an idea,
The bulb to a tulip
That will sprout if cared for,
And will open up
And blossom to its full potential
When exposed to the warmth
Of each glint of inspiration
Harvested by the caring hands of hope
From a pool of deep,
Fast-swirling water,
And that glint
Will sprout a forest
Of flowering ideas
Because all the holder can do
Is to let it.
Comments
This describes that spark of creativity, and the necessity of nurturing it, so accurately! The entire poem in itself has a nurturing quality, especially as you begin to compare an idea to a flower bulb.
Log in or register to post comments.