You are your art.
They are one and the same.
What you tend is what you nourish
What blooms in the spring

Plant what you paint.
Tend the seed which you later will speak.
There is no difference.
You are the garden with fertile soil.

There is no ceiling
Only stars above.
We are reaching for.
There is no difference.

Paint with brush.
Sing with voice.
What you love with dirt on your hands.
The grit under your nails.

Get messy in love.
What you try to care for.
Tender in the fragile green.
Bring it forth into this one life.

Unafraid.