do i prefer to hide inside this plastic box
that spews crisis and beauty to bury myself under
turning me from where Winter and Summer
ripple and swell at the doorway

Letting Noise take over the Silence
where I have to face myself, my limited capacity
and my infinite possibilities
Brave the darkness to see the Light

And worries are tossed aside
thoughts may be spoken, written
through art is healing and I am an artist of words
nature calls

(Seems there are still ways to lose myself
Slow moving days the proof itself
that in plugging the jug and flushing the pot
i can still find new ways of rot)