There are mornings when I float in a sea of imagination, of blessed inspiration, where the shadows are in 3D and I even take a picture of them in hopes that the lens will pick up on that which my feeble, caffeine-deprived brain sees as magical.
There are nights–normally attached to those same mornings–when music presents itself in the muddle of my sleep-deprived brain as truly the most penetrating thing on the planet. Those are the nights when the guitar solo at the end of Comfortably Numb can move me to tears.
And my muse can move me to sing.
Do you ever have one of those days?