Imagine seeing something for what it is. Lovely. Imagine it not being something that we lack and not our competitor. Imagine what you call inspiration, not as a bar you've failed to reach, and let it be as you see it. Lovely. Do you get envious of the sun? Shout jealousy at the moon? Growl at a blooming flower? Why go and trample the rose? Why snarl and strangle the light? There are no gods here to steal from, no more than yourself, anyhow. The rays still reach our skin, the warmth still absorbed, the flower’s scent still strikes to enliven. Our muse-desire has a shadow side, and sometimes, sometimes and not always, let something simply be lovely.