– artistry –

Look at me

So even-tempered these days 

Fearful that my inner peace

Might poach my creativity

But is that such a blemish

If I remain alive

To feel the breeze on my skin

For another cycle?

Creativity need not be born

From despair.

I eschew that tired narrative.

That stereotypical trope.

What good are creative talents

If they no longer breathe?

I will buck the trend.

Be happy, grateful, at ease

And use my complicated


To drive all that emerges. 

We all have our pain

Our shadows, our dark

Shouldn’t we have our sweet contentment

As well?

Complexity is not brooding.

Talent is not mere moodiness.

There is always more beneath

Than simply murky angst

There must be light to filter through.

There must.

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