lean into this,
the hard work
the heart work
the art work of growing.
know that this isn't forever.
your body, your home will catch up
to the blossoming of your soul.
days and months and years will pass.
but then, like a child, like a flower in spring,
you will bloom, you will rise.
here.
unrushed.
in your time.

It is important to write really bad pieces of poetry and prose.
Keep them in a journal somewhere.
Don't share them.
Just get them out there and tuck them away.
We must purge the cliche and mundane,
so that we may begin the work of creating art that moves.
We must press beyond the idiocy of our immediate thought and
find the inner wellspring of power.
Just beneath the petty complaints,
and regurgitated phrases,
inches deep beyond our projections and fears.
If we can sit long enough with our demons,
inner child,
and god-like spirits we will find something truly worth saying.
Worth giving.
Worth making.
Our legacy is planted only as deep as our honesty.

Every chore is a blessing,
Every blessing a chore.
Everyday holds bad and good.
'Tis but life, and nothing more.