art is when
you
take something empty and give it life.
art is the stroke of a paintbrush
and the scribble of a pen,
the sweetness of a melody,
and the snap of a clapperboard,
but art is also the way the grass sways in the wind
and the patterns the clouds form in the sky
and the rain’s decisiveness as to whether it will be
a delicate murmur or
a passionate roar.

art is when the harshest angles
and softest curves,
the highest of highs
and lowest of lows,
the brightest days
and darkest nights,
come together into something
that didn’t exist in a time before
you
made it
art is
unique and
bold and
brave and
you.
everything
about the art you create is
you. yourself. you
are your art. no one else could have made that but
you.
art is about how nothing in the known universe could have made what you just did
and how you just did
and why you just did
but you did.
and it’s beautiful.