
My art speaks, even when I don’t.
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Under the jungle canopy, light fractured into green Macaws sliced it open with screams of color Even chaos has its beauty
At the treetop, gibbons sang their morning operas Notes looped through sunlight like vines I listened, small beneath their stage
Overhead, bats poured from the cave like black ribbons The sky became a river of motion Darkness can shimmer too
I thought I needed a five-year plan. Turns out I just needed courage for today. Tomorrow can take care of itself.