Bloom Where You Will

Model: Ash Marx — Photo by Myranda Grulke

We bend our branches with such forceful intentions as we strive for excellence,

For a shot at controlling the outcome of whatever it is that our thoughts have set as the goal.

Control of the prize.

A preview of our futures –

Control of our growth.

But has it ever occurred to you, that we are artists, you and I?

In one thousand different ways, shapes, forms,

So much more than falling leaves and braving storms,

We spend countless moments taking turns,

As we attempt to paint the sky in such an orderly fashion,

So that just maybe the sun might sink into a collection of our favorite colors tonight;

And even if it does just that,

Then what?

We post a photo of our organized sunset,

And we plot tomorrow’s color palette.

We live forward,

As servants to the manmade clock.

But listen -

If you’d be still,

For just one moment,

The dusty haze that has clouded your eyes for as long as you’ve allowed it

Could melt away,

Empowering the creative waters of your soul as it fills the cracks of your mind with purpose –

With art.

With you.

Spill your heart into the mornings and let the sunlight’s moments soak into your veins.

Let your eyes be doors to the calm beneath the storm of earthly chaos,

And passionately love the artist beside you,

So that his doors are not locked,

And so that the sunlight may seep into the gallery which he has filled with a lifetime of masterpieces engraved by tools of broken hearts and desire.

Firmly plant your roots into the earths of your soul –

Grow, wildly and strongly with the intensity of the universe beneath your wings.

Alas, we all learn,

Some with difficulty, some with ease,

I may paint willows, and you may sculpt pines,

But the Sun gave no names to Her trees.

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