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? The rays still reach our skin, the warmth absorbed. Our muse-desire has a shadow side, and sometimes, sometimes and not always, let something simply be lovely.