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Artistic expression, it comes from somewhere.
Varying, depending on the creator of the
expression made physical.
Tangible, actual, touchable, readable.
Thoughts of what is their consciousness
of being.
How they see life, through their ocular window.
As their minds record all they experience
as memory.
Some good and joyous, full of peace.
Some hurtful and cold, absent of warmth.
Some somewhat conflictual, for they are
somewhere in between.
The moment this journey begins for time.
The conception, birth, child, adult.
The smiles, frowns, laughter, cries.
Some love, hate, family, friendship.
There's experience, knowledge, failure,
success.
Then peace, grief, life, death.
Those are the steps, walked by all.
Different shoes worn by different feet.
But no matter what road, no matter what street.
It's a path where we all meet.
The cross road between you and me.
where the opportunity is given.
For me to help you understand something
inside of me.
And I from you.
How and why your different from me, and
I from you.
But connected, all the same.
Rooted through that common thread.
That is sown into a blanket to encompass
us all.
The writers, poets, painters, musicians.
The many forms of this which is endless.
Those of whom, put their spirit on exhibit.
Allowing entrance into a pathless pathway.
To that door that can only be opened
by the who?
As we talk to each other, through
the language of art.
