It feels that this is one of those days where inspiration hides behind me. I catch glimpses of it out of the corner of my eye. I hear it whispering to me, yet the words are mere shivers on the wind. How can one grasp the untangible? Reach for it. So, I write creating an extension through my subconscience to a realm of creativity. Tap into the dream like wake of streaming beliefs is easy, making sense of the maddness is not. Questioning my own questions has gotten me to nowhere which everyone knows is truly now here. It's elusive, like a mouse to a cat on a hunt. I feel it's there yet cannot grasp it's ever present, ever moving quality. I feel like I'm hunting up fairies!