they say that you're an artist

how is it that someone who extracts
no more than rudimentary emotions from you
can still sufficiently inspire you?

obviously you do not have to be "in love"
to be inspired - that, in many ways, is it's own form of motivation
whether distinctly articulated - this source of inspiration- or whether the quality of inspiration is subtler via " love,"
. . . what?

fear, maybe - moreso a fear of abandonment, or superficiality?
how about hunger or longing?
intuition?

emotions easily capable of inspiring a person

and all of these emotions creditable (although i know not where i get off accounting these particular emotions as "creditable," i just know them as ones with which i am familiar)

if one harbors a fear of being used?
- or better yet, being forgotten -
one will pull out creative resources to express, cope with, or distance themselves from, this fear.

no one likes these feeling rising within themselves,
that uncomfortable feeling of fear and dread (and familiarity/nostalgia)
in the pit of their stomach
and will therefore find someway to release this feeling.
even if only temporarily.

and if feelings are both a motivating factor and a by product of an activity, is one not inspired?

who said that inspiration had to be pure?
honest, and balck and white?
or even understandable...i for one do not try to accuse any one aspect of my life of inspiration until after it has been spent,
until after i re-asses the "final product", after a healthy deal of space from said product, be it poetry, choreography etct, (for clear assesment, and an almost-but-not-quite-objective eye of revision... and such)

is it really important where it comes from?
sure, if you are looking to harness it...draw from it repeaditly or recreate its effect...then yes it is important to recgonize inspiration's source.

i for one am struggling to pinpoint my current reason for this surge in what i fear maybe superficial, catalysitc inspiration.

yes,
moments were shared
yes if i were any less jaded a person
i would be reliving them in my mind
marveling at my luck
and watching my hopes stack to the ceiling,
but as is the case, i am trying to rationalize these events and their consiquental poetic and emotional byproducts.

are we all just looking for a muse?
trying to find inspiration along with ourselves.
just solving internal mysteries and chasing internal ghosts?
crossing lines, and graying areas. . . ?

it's hard to say
and how will we ever know?