F I F T E E N

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ode to art / 18.12.18

I feel as though
poets convey the world
so purely—so straightforward
that the common mind
can't comprehend it's
utter brilliance.

we are hurting so
deeply that we are beautifully
molding art into ourselves.
making masks, we
share stories; not of
our own, strictly,
but also for those
who cannot speak.

we listen carefully,
hearing your sorrows:
like all of the old willows
sitting in the forest,
we attach ourselves
to your beauty and express
for you what may
not have been otherwise.

we script thoughts
we would never know
you had if we had not
connected so deeply with
your cherished soul.
you are what allows us to
thrive, to create new
figureless art.
and we are what challenges
you to believe in
thoughts that you'd
have rather pushed away.

you are true art;
having been there all along.
we simply helped
you paint yourself into
this world.

thank you.
you are van gogh.

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