I wanted to paint my soul
So I dunked both my arms into blue and green
And threw them onto the canvas
As the liquid splattered, light gathered
Out of the sheet and danced the room,
Only giving me its sight then zoomed
Back into the place it had come.
Before it dried, I spread my hand across,
Letting the bright colors smear and run.

I drew pencil lines around the fine nothingness
But they insisted to create, instead, a bridge
From one side to the other, there I laid,
Swearing I could feel wind, in the light,
The middle of the bridge swayed
Over the sea of blue and meeting in green
Magically moving at that in between.

Cutting my hand, not too deep,
I let myself drip and the liquid creeped
Into the work that was myself,
Disappearing among the colors I felt.
This was me, a soul, puncturing the middle,
Making myself whole.