When intuition dresses up as inspiration?

"Of that saturday night, what was first witnessed was the rain.   Nothing was made of it--merely rain.  It wouldn't be until the twilight hours of Saturday morning where time, and everything that the rain meant for me would complete the foreshadowing of earlier hours.

It didn't mean anything when that left strap was buckled onto the right side of the watch at that moment.  A watch is always aware of time--unless the battery dies.

A watch, a coat, and the rain...

After the alcohol levels had risen--for alcohol animates itself inside our bodies, loss of consciousness envelops....

I wouldn't have realized that in a matter of seconds, that watch would go into new hands.  And with that, it marked an end."

In a rationalistic age--such as that of today--what is left of one's ability to walk in the world with wonder?  We move our hands through air--nothing, in a sense, but there is something there.  Life does hold its secrets, its long silences, but when it does decide to speak, its words come in the way of incidents...objects of insignificant value.  But who is to judge?  A certain intuition lights a fire within oneself, our minds sharpen...and we "see".