Over each dark, moonless life there lies a wispy, smoky cloud.
The life slowly edging towards the dawn of a new tomorrow.  In each
cloud there resides a power, a controller, setting the standard for
each day.  This power is the brain of a human body.  However,
without any doubt, there is always light in each black raven-night.  
Even if the central-cloud refuses to illuminate the fact, the
illumination shines through.  For nohting can ever cause the dark
ink of lightlessness to melt away more than the human heart.  The
heart, warm as a fire blazing int he white snows of the winter
world.  And nothing can move such a conqueror as inspiration.
There is inspiration for all things, good and evil, light and dark.
And no one can thus live in a world wholly without light.
Inspiration brings a new image to a tear-stained canvas.  It brings
melody to the droning industrial cacophony.  Inspiration brings
emotion, rushing to the great neuron through a lightning highway,
and causes action where there otherwise would be none.

Inspiration brings a new face to the broken design of life.
Indeed, the images spawned by the inspired mind are colorful and
fantastic.  In a mind rich with intensity, scenes fly by.  There is
a golden-sand beach, somewhere far away in a land so perfect.  The
sky is set in an eternal post-card pose to be breathed in by
admirers who care enough to notice.  The sunset is a purple, blue
and red sky with the big, brilliant disc melting away into the
placid blue sea.  One the beach, there are two.  They sit in
astonished awe at the essence of the moment.  Inspiration.
Inspiraiton is a city skyline, glistening in the midst of a
crystal-clear night.  The view observed from a high point in the
distance.  The pinnacles of light shine down from the heavens as if
to point the way to the future.  From an eagle's eye, the world
seems so delicate.  Standing together on the olympic point, there
are two.  They stand in approval of the structure and innocent
pulses of serenity.  Inspiration.  The inspired mind can be taken
to a park.  The park, filled with the vivacious green of life, 
providing for hundreds of people's giddy enjoyment, as a mother to
her children, Terra to her Humans.  The scents of the freshly-cut
growth of the large expansive meadow permeate the air, as the cool
breeze blows by like a crystal wind cutting the warmth given by the
bright yellow sun.  Nature, the eternal family.  Sitting on a
blanket, reveling in the absolute brightness of life, there are
two.  They sit, taking and accepting the red-ribboned gifts of the
Earth they call home.  There are many more scenes of this
inspiration.  The sequence moves on.

Inspiration is the key to the silent world, breaking the
chains holding the flow of sound.  The only sound is silence,
broken ever so often by a terrible cacophony.  The cacophony is a
dark red rage, a scream like the shrill call of a hawk landing on
its prey.  But alas, the inspiration comes to free the bonds of 
melody.  Inside the cloud there is no thunder, the invisible
inhabitant of the grey skies.  There are only songs, with words and
without, echoing constantly as if proclaiming a message on the
mount.  The flow changes, and with each sweep of the clear tide, a
new fact is learned.  For the inspiration tells a story without
saying so, speaking through the beauty of sound.

Inside the cloud there was but a box, impenetrable and
solid.  Nothing could harm the inhabitant, and nothing would get
out.  But when the dark vest of the former life peels away, and a
new, white gown is worn, inspiration shines and brings feeling,
messages to the soul.  The box falls down, leaving but a welcome
mat to the possibilities of tomorrow today.  Suddenly, the emotion
fills the empty jar called need.  A warmth, filling up the cold
empty cavernous body like a brick fireplace in the home of an
elder.  The elder wants but the best, and no one would catch
cold in front of the loving licks of the flame.  In rushes safety,
filling the nervous mind.  But the woolen blanket covers the entire
existence, and comfort in the blank beyond is the result.
Inspiration breeds serenity.  As the mind lies active, off of the
grey harsh cloud and on a soft, fluffy bed reminiscent of a furry
friend.  As the light rain pitter-patters against the window, and
the whole world cools and slows, the mind can relax and take
heart in the placidity in every human's soul.  For inspiration
carries it on, even when it has lost its legs.

So inspired, the mind moves to action.  The white-water rapid
runs its course in a torrid pace, led on by the push of hte source
behind it.  Inspiration pushes on.  And as the young rapid heads
towards the sea, it knows its future is guaranteed.  The success
follows each active move it makes.  The river pushes on, enjoying
each step of the way.  The puppy-dog splashes as it dodges rocks
indicate the holy truth of the matter.  The river has fun.  
Inspiration brings the fun.  As it greets the sea, a pink and 
yellow rainbow emerges.  Now, the rapid has joined with the sea,
and it shows its everlasting love.  Its inspiration has brought it
love, struck by Cupid's arrow.  Inspiration hands out things to
those willing to take them.

In the dark, a fade of light - black as night.  And in the
night, a flash and spark - then no more dark.  Inspiration carries
its inquisition in each and every mind attached to the clouds
floating by.  Inspiration repaints the failed sketch into a lively
masterpiece.  Inspiration tunes the strings on the yellowed guitar.
Inspiration fosters a revolution in experience, rekindling the
fires of a long-extinguished flame.  Inspiration drives on even if
the path is not clear.  For all the battles waged against reluctant
submissives of the dark, inspiration carries on through.  Each
cloud is not dark.  Each cloud is simply sleeping, awaiting the
light-strewn touch of inspiration.