Find me a form that I can’t understand.
Words that flow from your fleeting glimpses of
Life, an order unlike any other,
Bird song captured in letters and ink stains.
Rife with memory, scribe a symphony,
Hoard experience through language. Show me
Highs, lows, passion and depression, the long
Score, soundtrack to your existence.
Should not all art take a chance? A tiny
Risk, no matter how small, sets it apart
From the safety of ease and certainty.
Food for thought, sustenance for my new soul.
It makes me laugh; it seems that leaving my
Home gave my mind the space needed to grow.