Your heart is where your art lives.

Beyond the shore of logic,
unwed from expectations,
lives a gift, first given to you,
in the trust that you might give.

It is yours to know,
cultivate and share
a unique seed,
within your chest.

Delicate, exposing.
You may seek to keep it
safe behind the walls,
behind the ribs.
What once were walls
can soon become a cage,
and what’s closed off from life,
you can’t expect to live.

When open, it enlivens you.
When expressed, your eyes alight.
Your wisdom grows more innocent,
your innocence more wise.

It may recede or wilt
if forced to grow by will.
It can deform or suffocate
if gripped and wrangled
for its fruits to come to market.
It may bear fruit, it may simply flower.
As a result,
not for a result.

It does not announce itself,
it reveals itself in process,
in timeless spaces.
It comes to light, to life in play.

When left untended
beneath amassing soil,
as the seasons pass
with all they ask,
and all they leave behind,
you may feel the weight,
you may start to tire
if it never sees the light.

But if you seek, you’ll find
the seed survives.
Now, with great depth and storied roots,
the seed springs into life.

You are the custodian,
the steward,
of this gift.
It is your labour of love.

Your heart
is where your art lives.
Your art
is what your heart gives.

Peace and love

Alex