Tag: poetry

But until the sun burns us to dust
We dive into oceans of old
We swim under skies of centuries
Until our home galaxy becomes maelstrom and maker
We light candles and watch fireflies dance
We breathe another day. And burn on

we are still here

It’s very likely that my art will never change anyone.

My writing may never be published. My poems may never be read. My songs may never be sung, my lyrics never hummed on lips other than my own.

Maybe everything I’ll ever create will be forgotten and useless as soon as I’ve birthed it. Because it’s bad or it’s the wrong time or it’s unloved or a million other reasons.

But still, I must. Still, I have to make art. It could be the worst, the most terrible piece of art that the world has ever seen, but I have to. Just like breathing. Some art has to be made so you can consume it and make it part of yourself, and other art has to be made so you can finally rip a part of yourself out.

And don’t forget:

Your own cruelty bleeds you dry when you bring it against yourself, and it multiplies when you raise it against others; your own kindness exponentiates even when you subject only yourself to it, and reaches beyond where you even care to look.

It gets lonely, being human. Not because you can’t find a soul to lie beside you at night; because you never know if their soul is searching at all, and if you want to be found.

moami