Inspired

Sitting at my desk, looking at the blank page before me.
Wondering what will come out of my head this time.
Will it be better than the last, or will I disappoint myself.
Have I ever disappointed myself or am I satisfied with what I've done?
How can I be disappointed when I've written so much?
I'm not, I'm satisfied.

Sometimes it's just hard to come up with something, the inspiration almost gone.
Other times it comes flooding in like a dam that burst. Ideas fill my head.
One word pops out after the other, a million ways to write down what I want to say.
And then it suddenly dries out, it all becomes very silent, my thoughts have stopped.

I read back what I've just put into words, how can anyone not be satisfied with their inspired thoughts put into words? How can you criticize your own feelings?
I know I can't. Sure one might flow better then the other.
But that's not what it's about.
It's all about being inspired.