Wisps of smoky dreams steal the air from my lungs.
Their fire smoldering through my veins like the last kiss of a dying lover.
Leaving a singed trail of desire across my soul.
The spark of inspiration has turned into a raging fire. Stamped down and held inside it slowly burns everything to ash. Set free and used as fuel it drives the engine of creation.
How are you treating your sparks of inspiration?
When our dreams don’t fit with what we’ve been told we can have or what we believe we can have, we have a tendency to shove them down and ignore them. It’s like swallowing hot coals. It’s painful. They taste bad. They smolder in the pit of your stomach and slowly kill you.
It happens so slowly, you might not even realize it until you’re 80 and on your deathbed. No one gets to the end of their life and wishes they’d spent more time doing whatever soul sucking crap society said they needed to do.
Are you allowing your dreams to light you up like bonfire in the night or smolder to death in the hidden parts of you?