{after a week full of scattered thoughts and devoid of words, I became desperate and started searching through my old flashdrive. Coincidentally, I found this piece. It was written in the summer of 2012 and was based off 1 Kings 19:11-13. Also coincidentally, it is talking about the one thing that i do not possess right now–inspiration.}

You whisper.
But here I am, staring for hours
at a blank page with
A little flickering light,
And begging for
Inspiration.
Somehow, though, your voice calls me
Away from my noise and frustration
To stop talking, stop writing
And just listen.
So I took a walk outdoors.
I saw the wind murmuring through the trees
Sending fragments of leaves spinning
To the sandy soil.
And I was inspired.
Then I sat by a cozy fire in a room,
And talked and laughed, holding
A sticky hand and a cup of hot chocolate.
I heard the words and saw the fire-lit
Faces of my family.
And I was inspired.
Finally, I stood before a wooden case
Stacked with papers, where ink-splotted authors
Of years before had left their words.
I saw the gilded covers, and read a page or two.
And I was inspired.
When again I sit by the window,
I wonder why I never saw it before.
For your inspiration comes not in a wind, an earthquake, or a raging flame,
But in the soft whispers of everyday things.
And when I stop talking, stop writing
and am patient enough to listen.
Somehow,
Your inspiration always stirs my own.