To Be The Art

I hold the pen and watch the night,

To catch the tears before they fall.

To paint the dark in shades of light,

And find a meaning in it all.

I am the one who weaves the thread,

Of every heartbreak, love, and loss.

With heavy words within the head,

And carrying the lonely cross.

But can I be the song instead?

The quiet lines that someone keeps.

The gentle words that must be read,

While all the noisy city sleeps.

I want to be the thing they love,

And not the hand that writes it down.

To look upon the sky above,

Without the burden of the crown

Day 138 / 364

Can I be the poem and not the poet?

It is an exhausting thing to always be the one,

Who has to find the words.

To be the interpreter of pain,

The observer of beauty,

And the architect of every emotion.

The poet is always the one standing on the outside looking in,

Capturing everything but holding nothing.

Sometimes, you just want to put the pen down.

You don't want to explain the magic;

You want to be the magic.

You want to be the lines that someone memorizes,

The art that someone protects,

And the masterpiece that is loved just for existing,

Not for what it can create.

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