So long I've been without my brush
Why did I wait? Put it off? When it longed for my touch?
Bitterness? Resentment? Failure to succeed?
How weak am I to ignore and heed
its call- for when I finally embraced
my need to create, it felt like running a race!
To feel my heart beat, hear my feet pound-
moving through the air, adrenaline abounds!
Lately, I've been statically moving forward,
as if on a treadmill- stationary- not going towards-
that part of my identity in which I am real,
where vulnerability meets truth and feeds my zeal.
Now I know, next time that I feel gray-
all the colors are muted and I start to fray,
just lace up those shoes and step onto the earth,
prepare to get dirty and envision rebirth.
The time is now- don't ever forget-
the beauty of creating and the pain of regret.
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