wanted to create.
dreaming me woke up & knew that
the only thing left behind when
we're gone is love.
the one thing we get to leave the world with.
maybe everybody else already gets
this. to me, it seemed a
love being the only immortal & no substitutes allowed.
this is not news.
(but it felt like it was.)
all the stuff in the world, and the one thing that matters
is the easiest, if you can
(all the art is only a reflection.)
which is okay, finally.
the desire to create
why just seems different now.
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