Emergence

Art erupts from the caustic soul, a grimy kitchen, a falling down garage. I see it like this: nothing beautiful, raw and profound emerges from the stalemate of perfect harmony. Life, creativity comes from the fiercest of acts, clammy, twisted, panting take downs fused by want and struggle and perseverance. When all is calm, breezes gentle, eyes lit with insight, the pain of birth sheds like a million miles of hunger satisfied. Then, the timbre of grace.