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your art.

you wanted to know what it might be like to live on the surface of your own life. savoring the possibility of one that felt as good as it looks. so you tended your home in earnest preparation for any guests that might stay. even as the universe brought chaos and clearing to help you plumb new depths. how else would you have been made available to your own reflection in every aftermath?

good art conveys experiences made tactile to the eye or imagination. some art walks us out of the dark, while others record movements of light. this is how art tattoos the collective, when what’s inside is ready to be brought to the surface. art is both contribution and relief in not having to carry what is too beautiful or too awful to hold alone.

when you end up just you and your devotion, and your inner experiences are enough to reject the distractions of surface life, reality can finally fully belong to you. everyone just needed to leave your house. the surface of your life can be as smooth as a calm lake once you claim everything beneath the surface. and you no longer scatter pieces of yourself like pennies in a fountain, traded for a wish.