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