I see a time and place full of what I love and what I’m learning to love;
time made for priorities finally written in black and white, beside three bullets,
and a place where I am not trying to escape from one devil or chase another.
A balcony, an easel, a paintbrush.
A coffee shop, a notebook, a pen.
An unfamiliar street, my shoes, my earbuds.
Progress made in comfortable, solid hours;
not a hundred minutes pathetically stitched together over the weeks.
I see an old leaf of a journal recovered in an attic, a small smile,
and a realization that I would not recognize myself six months ago,
because my surroundings are so new, my comfort zone so much bigger,
and my goals built on the foundation I began those six months before.
I see victories made in turning weakness into expression;
subdued memories of individual struggles drowned in compacted weeks of focus.
Memories that regain color only when I slide back into an old sofa
and explore notebooks from the past, cover to cover.
I see faith — optimistic assumptions— being cast on strangers that I have learned
to love as individuals, in a city that I have learned to love as an encompassing home,
rather than a crowd of houses on a crowd of streets.
I see petty opinions being rubbed down into one open mindset where any hope,
pastime, conviction, or weakness can be afforded respect, and beauty found,
because they are the only things keeping this city from living in a grayscale.
I see details expanding from the passionate, and entire passions being
condensed into the bodies I bump into on the street;
conversation where one word sparks sentences that can barely make it into
the musical air without overlapping.
I see all of this in some still corner of my mind where my most
magical and ephemeral emotions await my next meditative breath.
Vaguely the future, nearly tangible with just a pen in my left hand.
I used to love these visions with a cheap affection;
“It’s too real right now to not be later",
but I love them now with the deepest and slowest breath I can take;
“It’s too real right now to think I could contain it
in simply one canvas, run, sentence, smile, or stranger".