The Alchemist (a Poem)
Written and edited in 2020
Written and edited in 2020
I say I believe in signs. I thought they were supposed to be butterflies or angel numbers or something…
Not only is art born from a man’s open heart, Munch says, but is the heart’s blood itself.
Objective: focus my personal and continuing education into an organized topic with deadlines, expectations, and a final capstone.
Remember the willow tree, for it may seem dull after watching so many dazzling iterations of it spawn from our human desire to imitate, but its beauty and love remains, waiting for you to come home
We shape our environments simply by recognizing ourselves with candor and allowing ourselves to understand that crises of our faith are often as simple as being hungry.
A rehabilitation of the fig tree metaphor for anyone who’s ever felt paralyzed by possibility, anyone who’s read ‘The Idiot’ three times, and anyone suspicious of the phrase “dream big.”