The warbler and the stone.
A stone passed decades perched atop a high rocky cliff. From that broad vista it bore witness to the thrum of the forests and marshes, to the caprice and grandeur of the sky, and to the daily dramas unfolding in the bustling villages of the common folk below.
One day, a warbler landed up on the rock. Looking up to the sun, it began to sing. After hearing the warbler's voice, the rock spoke: “I wish I could do that. Here I sit, observer to the theater of the cosmos, but for all that I cannot myself cry out as I am moved.”
“It is not difficult,” replied the warbler, “I will assist you.”
The warbler pecked and shoved at the base of the stone, loosing it from the hill and sending it tumbling down cliff, knocking and banging against the rocky hillside. With each collision, a sharp “Ach!” could be heard to echo through the valley.
Inspiration is not met in passivity