create.

The screen said

create.

so i sat staring


Anyone can poke a hole
in the open sky and paint the flow
of color that rushes through
the empty nature of art


Very few are those who
watch the colors they once knew
Sit beside, afraid to see
what will become of their trade.


Like a lake once dammed but now free
the sky bleeds out. Some can see
like the fish left behind, it cries.
They cry too, They'd rather die

Than see the sky fall!

Those who watched
Rise and Breath
The weight of atlas
falls to their feet

And from inside themselves
Where no one sees
They bring out in joy
the sadness they keep.

Then it seemed
The whole world did speak
And I heard them go
I heard them leave

And I knew it then
to watch and wait
to quit poking holes
to bear the weight