I have made something.
(Although it is small and nearly imperceptible.)
It signifies my existence. It signifies
love I have given and received.
It signifies the things I have accepted
and that which I reject.
This lifework took years
and it has worn me.
I rise from bed dark mornings
because the desire to become
more real hunts me and haunts me—
even in sleep—that dark dance.
The desire to create is the desire
to become more real. It is the desire
to deepen understanding
of Self and Other.
I am ready again, again, again
to succumb; to give myself
over to the art engendered
within and without.