I’ve fallen in love with painting fruit, with the background weave of serene French music — therapeutic as it were.
For so long, I always felt alone.
Now I come to realize that I wasn’t merely paying enough attention.
I have music that speaks to me and art that comforts — abstract, contemporary, violets, pansies, daisies, and the human body itself — intricate.
Cool rain droplets that plummet to my skin remind me I’m alive.
So be it, perhaps I’m dazed.
Perhaps now’s the time I’ve finally lost the last bits of my mind; for I’d rather be completely mad than utterly vapid — predictable as it were.
So be it, only time will tell.
It’s about time I’ve listened to my heart for a change.
I’ll chase the butterflies and follow the wind, dance to get wherever it may be that I’m going —
They don’t know what I’m doing so how ever could I be wrong to begin?
I’ll climb the tallest mountains to catch even the slightest glimpse before it’s gone —
I’ll never understand how someone can look at a sunset piercing through the clouds and not be amazed.
Croyez vous aux miracles?
And I don’t think we should fear love, no.
I think we should fear a life lacking it entirely when we were the ones who held its power all along.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Clay LeConey on Unsplash
Be Love