Art is Soul

I have heard it said

That we are all born

As creatives; as artists.

Quite naturally, as children, we gravitated to creating art

Before speech, before understanding emotions

We left clues of our inner thoughts

Imagination and intuition.

In the art we created

I have experienced from children I’ve encountered

My own and many others

Embracing their art

And, the stories they told

Woven around their picture.

Not only of the characters floating in the sky

Or those hiding in the forest.

And I loved, how they loved their own art.

How they knew it was special

Giving from the treasure trove that is their soul.

She said to me

I use your favourite colours

So you’ll always know,

Which one you are in the picture.

A window to their soul

Door ajar

Inviting you to darken the door

 A chance to look inside

Gently, naturally

Talk about the colours you see

And the characters in the picture

The world of their creation

And you get to visit.

Let the art they created that day

Be the bedtime story at night

At the end of the day

Their art is the story.

Love their art, love their soul.

I feel like that child again

Long gone from her art

A mere breath here and there

over the years

kept her alive.

With finding my artist

I’ve found my compass

I’ve found my north.

I feel like that child

Reunited to a long-lost friend

Spilling my thoughts

Massaging my soul

Letting it speak.

Its truest form of self-expression

Unhindered by the confines of language.

Art, worth a thousand words or more

I have found myself here

Compelled to share with the world

All I’ve discovered,

And how its help me find my north

My place to thrive and grow.