a map to icebergsHere is the truth: there is ice floating behind the calm of your eyes and the set of your jaw warns me to tread lightly around you. You are an iceberg, strong and silent and frozen to the world, and I am a shipwreck just waiting to happen. One of these days, we're bound to collide.Here is the truth: I've tried to scale your frozen walls a hundred dozen times but I always find a way to fall down. You are an insurmountable force of nature, and I can't help but stand in awe of your distaste for things that are not your own. My timber limbs are drawn to you and I can't stop myself.Here is the truth: I fall asleep counting the ways your expressions change. You have a different face for every mood and sometimes, I say something stupid just to watch your eyebrows shift. You are a hurricane and I am the ocean, swept along beneath your layered skirts, shattered and shaking, just trying to follow your lead.Here is the truth: you are always one step ahead of me, and I think I might be using a
The Search For SoulShe looks for it everywhere;In the pattern of raindrops on her umbrella,In the whisper of the wind as it tries to lift her off the ground,And in the lonely light of the stars that she gazes at all through the night.The mind of an artist is different from the rest.Brighter,Odder,More complex,But always searching.Searching for the soul in everything;Waiting for inspiration to take her once again,And to guide her hands and heart in a familiar dance,Without pause or restUntil it is complete.For there is no true art without inspiration,However there is no true artist without art.