to love an inspiration;

you must love the skeletons in its closet,

the cracks in the walls of a glass house,

and the darnkess that lies beneath its trapdoor

without knowing when you will fall in

To love the power of a dream

you must hold its space open, 

flung wide with the heels of your hands

out from the heart where your ribcage expands

giving form to a whisper

and risk its collapse