These are but mere warnings of inspirations about to be unleashed like violent visceral volcanoes that surge forth hot molten magma with a lucid red intensity and many dangerous side effects. Any true inspiration leaves the person out of control, rhythmic and writhing like the bodies at a three-day voodoo ceremony. Dancers are possessed and leave their bodies, allowing great and old spirits to once again roam the earth in the confines of sacred dance and sacred trance. Or maybe those who are truly inspired and have communicated with the mythological forces of yore will, by their very being, transcend our plane and evolve humans into the next millennium. No, that's not it.
Inspiration has nothing to do with goals.
Band-Aids on a severed hand. It really comes down to some moment, some force-invisible hands guiding dice and Tarot cards. I once asked a Ouija board about inspiration, and it said that it was all in my mind. In an era when the mass hallucination we call reality is no longer agreed upon by all, inspiration may be the last secret truth to mystify us. For within each of us are tiny wind-up motors, and every now and then, they get turned too tight.