The life of the artist

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.


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