Every single thought or action in my life
started as a
seed
Whether that seed came from:
An amalgamation of words half heard
Run through
my brain box
forming into something new
Unique
To me
Or perhaps
A message from
above
The divine guidance disguised as
The tiniest
kernel
of knowledge
Bestowed with love and
In time
blossoming
Providing shade, nourishment, and the information to move
forward.
Or maybe,
A bit of
Both
One thing is for certain
The seeds are there
Deep
Gestating
Waiting
For their season to grow
To push through the earth
and make their presence known
—————————————————————————————
The choices that arise
in
art
Are the same as in
life
Which seeds do I foster?
Aiding to their unfolding
and
Which do I abandon?
Making sure they never take
root
Different plants require different things
sun
(The amount of attention I shine upon it)
water
(The effort I provide)
soil composition
(The intention in which I plant)
Certain seeds
qualities or behaviours
thrive in different environments
A seed which will grow into a kind and empathetic outlook on life
May have a hard time
Surviving in the soil of
personal fulfillment
But may thrive
in the fertile earth of
selfless service
Further more
failure to reach
fruition
might just be
the very thing
needed
I think back to the many seeds planted of their life and their inevitable death along the path to maturity
Whether they reach it or not
Their bodies
composting
creating the perfect chemical make up
from which future seeds need
to grow
—————————————————————————————
A doomed romantic relationship
Grown from the seed of lust mistaken for love
and once the fruit was born
I understood that
sweetness
without
nourishment
has a shelf life
And I can’t stress enough
That without the decomposing body of
lust
I could never have grown
love
—————————————————————————————
What does all this mean?
Well my dear friend
There is no
failure
The seeds that we grow
That become
disappointments
droughts,
that decimated hope,
are in fact the
building blocks
needed
To nurture the next
blossom
Whether what flowers becomes
A piece of art
Or
Life goal
—————————————————————————————
I find myself moving up and down the
rows
among thousands of
seeds
Giving to them what they need
What I need
to grow
The hard part for me to accept
and even realize
No matter the choice I make
No matter the path I take
What i wish to water
What seeds I
desire,
and those I
fear,
To sow
Are always what is needed
For me to grow
Read that again
There are no mistakes
My Artistic pursuit
started as a seed
Planted
Grown and continuing to grow
The idea that I make missteps
Stunt my progress
My forward momentum
into decay is
fallacy
Painting, like life has a very intricate growth cycle
spread out
Over the milliseconds
Days
years
Moments
Seasons
The painting that appears today is from the seed of a subconscious idea from years before
When it is time to harvest
I will
The fruit will be born at the
right time
And I will be there to