In trusting the process
I trust myself to navigate
the highs and lows that
change
with each moment,
my own tidal surges,
pushed and pulled by my lunar heart.
My heart that
drips from my lips and
bleeds from my fingertips.
I bleed ink
with a depth of authenticity
that few can handle
Or so they tell me.
Still I open,
the petals of my heart
parting to soak up the sun,
if only to reflect the radiance
on a world that may or may not
be ready to bask in it;
for what is living
if we are not loving.
x
© Multimedia painting by Savannah Wishart
