Think Horses

Forever in awe of people who pay attention. People who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the rest have walked away. Noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “This made me think of you”, noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. People who say, “text me when you get home safe”. People who make you laugh until you cry. People with genuine intentions. People who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. People whose actions match their words. People who make the world less chaotic. Kindred spirits. The trustworthy and honest. Good listeners. Clear communicators. People who love you for who you are. People who don’t ask you to be anything else other than yourself. People who choose you. People who stay.
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If I could go back,
I would take all the wrong
Turns on purpose,
I would be reckless with chances
and greedy with wishes,
I would believe in more,
but trust less.
If I could go back,
I would find my fears early
and kick their asses sooner,
I would realise that eye contact
never killed anyone,
and words hurt, but silence
is what breaks hearts.
I would go back to tell myself
that I have the sky in my eyes,
the universe into my heart and
dynamite built into my bare hands.
I would tell that beautiful girl
not to ever let anyone crack
her still spine, never let anyone
slip disregard under her nail beds,
and never let anyone leave a trail
of regret under her skin and call
it a promise. I would tell her to
always remember who’s writing her story.
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If you’ve ever watched the timelapse of a seed growing into a bud growing into a flower🌻 Or a ripe strawberry being overtaken by a mold 🍓or a baby growing into a child growing into an adult, then perhaps you know that continuity does not mean that something stays continuously the same, but rather continuously changes

Anger will recede into forgiveness, But that does not mean it’s a different thing altogether. Life is a series of shifts and transformations, the latest version only possible because of its predecessor.

A similar metamorphosis happens in art. The exacting days of impressionism, or cubism or surrealism, May not exist in the heyday, but they have been reimagined over and over again, Fought against in romanticized, until we scroll here, now, looking at so much art that has exploded only thanks to the timelapse of art across the ages.

Today I’m taking a moment to be grateful for the timelapse of my life, and of the art that has preceded me to get to this place, and to all the shifts that are yet to come, should i be so lucky.
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Muse:
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