Inspiration grips my soul And gives my mind no peace; I try and try to let it go, But silence baffles me.
Sometimes in the darkest night It's dreams that haunt my eyes And sometimes, inspiration's height Looks about agony's size.
Ideas sometimes look like pain And memories that hurt me; And beautiful though my song may be, Perhaps its roots concern me.
But art, it lies within the choice To make a lie show truth And find the love inside the voice Of your heartrending youth.
Don't build your statues with ashes: Compress them into stone, And watch as sorrow clashes With love that builds a home.
Darkness is no shelter, But is an invitation For light to burn the better As fire: my inspiration.
Pliny the Elder said: "The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach."