It's in that first line and first word
and then upon letting it
spill from our fingertips
and letting our minds drift
and our hearts dream
we can find ourselves lost
somewhere in the mists
of illustrated longing
and the seas of painted lust
and the beauty of a monsters heart
and the nightmares sewn
beneath an angels wing
and the tears collected
to print fairy tales
and it's as simple as
the song of children laughing
and as easy as
the hard falling rain of mourning
and as necessary as inhaling
is to exhaling
and it's always there in the air
to breath in and breath out
and it's good and it's bad
and it hurts and it bleeds
and its in everything
that can be beautiful
and all we have to do
is let it fall and spill
and stain and dance
from the fabric of our souls
through the rhythm of our pulse
and out into the world
from that first line
to our last breath