art isn't a thing
it is a fractured composure
misunderstood by defiants
yet rises to better expectations of reliance

art is praised
through the melodies of random kindness
through the pictures of story-telling
through the written speech of your imagination

art is a soul
that is purely intoxicated
pre-judged with mere perfection
consoling the lightworker in you

art is you
bestowed to eradicate mediocrity
created to being inanimacy to life
distinguished for an exciting simplicity.

Enough energy to punch through a tower of bricks
Or to jump 10 feet into the air
Why? Oh
Energy increases
Running around a tiny box room
Bouncing off walls
I've not yet fallen
Or is the cause of this
That I fell long ago?

In this moment, it seems, a spirit has found us
Alone or together our strength is boundless
Our thoughts reach further than one has ever dared to go on foot
A flurry of hopes; both old and new flicker before us
Our light floats in a sea of faith
As read by the virtuous figure “joy and courage go hand in hand”
Thus creating a heartened happiness.
We find laughter in one another
Adversity turns its face to the shadows and hides from safety
Once we have returned
A free spirit is left behind
It waits to be rediscovered
By she who yearns so passionately for it
But it daren’t make a sound
It remains yet unfound