The life of the artist
Is not something you choose.
It is something you’re born into,
It is where you keep finding yourself
Again and again
Even after getting lost
Countless times.
The life of the artist
Is hours and days and months.
A lifetime
Perfecting a movement
Integrating the emotion
Channeling the soul.
It is pain and practice
Soreness and defeat,
The biggest exhilaration
That is possible to feel
By a mere human being.
It’s the ache in your soul
That’s filled up with beauty
And spills over the edges.
When no matter how far
You may wander
You will always find your way back
To yourself.
Because the life of the artist
Is the force inside of you
Lining your bones and arteries
Pumping in every heartbeat
In every inch of excitable bones
You were born into it.
Too Far From the Sun 