What is an artist for?
What purpose do I live?
The pressures that crowd a brain
and squeeze a heart
until we feel we will burst.
Explode. Blood and guts (red).
The only answer I can validate
is one which seems to make the only sense;
We are the translators
we are the dictionary and thesaurus,
Sponges that wring out truth as we see it.
Truth is a refraction of light split into points
blended into a blur
of color and sentiment.
We help the speechless speak and the stumble-footed dance/we hear the birds
we orchestrate the song
we hear of the murder and recreate the scene.
We feel the heartbeat
and paint the blood’s flow.