Creativity and I | a poetic response to Liz Gilbert's "Big Magic"
Creativity and I
We're the couple
who sits in booths,
passing scribbled
napkins instead of
speaking.
We're the weirdos
who don't know
if they're friends,
siblings,
or lovers
(and no one
else knows either).
We're two different
colored grapes
on the same vine (we
make a nice rosé); two
rose bushes growing
into each other; two
stained glass windows
on either side of a church;
one red and
one blue lens
in a pair of 3-D glasses.
Creativity and I
are inconsistent,
sloppy, and sometimes
intoxicated. Our love is
high, wild, storm-ready,
innocent, focused,
mature, and confused.
We have some
commitment issues,
but our love's a fun one.
We're the couple
who sits in booths,
passing scribbled
napkins instead of
speaking.
We're the weirdos
who don't know
if they're friends,
siblings,
or lovers
(and no one
else knows either).
We're two different
colored grapes
on the same vine (we
make a nice rosé); two
rose bushes growing
into each other; two
stained glass windows
on either side of a church;
one red and
one blue lens
in a pair of 3-D glasses.
Creativity and I
are inconsistent,
sloppy, and sometimes
intoxicated. Our love is
high, wild, storm-ready,
innocent, focused,
mature, and confused.
We have some
commitment issues,
but our love's a fun one.
In other words: reading "Big Magic" made me realize that my relationship with Creativity is extremely unconventional (and at times positively contradictory), but we like it that way.
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