If you close your eyes and immerse yourself in colors,
What shades would define you?
Perhaps carnation pink, robin’s egg blue,
A dark violet, or a wine-flavored maroon?
What would you paint with your limbs?
Authoring an impression upon the splash,
Creating a crude broad-stroke portrait,
Highlighting temperance,
Or showing something beyond the surface of spackled acrylics?
Show them vibrancy,
Like neon under a black light,
Or dark and *****,
With bokeh bubbles and lush verdant forests.
Take to your inkwells,
Lay out the papyrus,
And calligraphy fancied letters, or scribbled jargon.
Speak the words to grant you power,
Stain the dotted lines with your truth,
And tell secrets kissed between the pages.
Show the world you live in!
You are alive!
You matter!
Let your hands take clay and shape golems
Or vases to hold perennials.
Create characters in heaps of it,
Scored and kiln-fired,
Showing them statues yet seen—
Modern marvels sans marble.
Nothing can stop you,
You of stardust and magic,
You of survived tragedies and missteps,
You of overcome travesty, health scares, and suffering.
You are an artist, the truly free.
Dedicated to my friends, followers, and poets I admire. You are seen, you matter, your words move me.
