Made to Bloom #427

Red is a color developed in the artwork.

Deposits of moments and hopes accumulating in the home.

Dressed to express how pain and love feel.

Pushed as both an ally and an enemy.

And enduring the lineup as best as it can for sure.

Beauty is an open door for all in the artwork.

Touching the agreed upon and the inked.

Active in the mechanisms and the frictions.

Acknowledged in the relief and in the longing.

And giving freely to dreams whenever it can for sure.

Happy is a weather event stemming from the artwork.

A label with an immense range.

Costs nothing as well as a whole lot.

Is the easiest thing but also the hardest too.

And redirects smiles with lies as often as it can for sure.

Everything grows in the artwork.

Speaks politely and rudely in those spaces.

Wishes for certainty in the downpours.

Hates traversing the wilderness of uncomfortable.

And promotes boundaries while farming.

Because the artist constructs its artwork from what has mattered.

It's rounded-up moments woven as confessions onto pages.

Clad in colors that are sometimes just smoke and mirrors.

Bent from the shadows and roots chasing perfect handstands.

And of course, the insider questions about the intentions of the artistic taste.  

Because what that artwork is selling is what the artist has brought to form.

Not as a story of defeat but realness with a filter of fear held over it. 

A familiar lens certain about its walk of suppression.  

Forgetting that change isn't in silencing but in modifying the game so that whatever the artist has to portray, it's supported by the rules for sure.

Everything grows in the artwork because everything is made to bloom and when smiles with lies are running the show, bravery's magic is that it's too engaged to be blue about not headlining the episode.

Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell

Unattended #426

We talk about heroic as if we know its game.

Like, it's some list of victories.

With lines celebrating just the parts that display strength.

Not the cost of battles that existed before and come after.

Nor the moments where it has very quietly fit in. 

We voice beauty as if we know what it names.

Like, there's some list that drops down to be read off of.

As a consensus about gardens always displaying full bloom.

Not the expense of that, felt deeply in the heart as well as the mind.

Nor the possibilities of experiencing it in custom ways.

We discuss colors as if we know their fame.

Like, it's some list to advise artists.

With precise mixing that must be met.

Not the consequence of expecting the same composition everywhere.

Nor the success that the sky has in never just being blue.

We address stories as if we know how they came.

Like, there's some list that reaches into every home.

As neatly categorized frames to be surrounded with.

Not the price of rejecting the full experience.

Nor the pieces that play briefly and whose receipts take time.

We talk about heroic as if we know its game.

Like, it's some list that eludes our pages.

With lines about how it dances on the journeys of others. 

Not the cost of denying the manner in which it is planted for us.

Nor the moments where it didn't go while resonating with us that it did.

We voice beauty as if we know what it names.

Like, there's some list that even our mirrors are aware of.

As proof that other gardens are always together.

Not the expense of ignoring our evolving, individual portrayals.

Nor the possibilities of exuding it in other note worthy styles.

We discuss colors as if we know their fame.

Like, it's some list that came to be because some said so.

With precise mixing that's hard to understand. 

Not the consequence of keeping love from stirring the pot for something other than red.

Nor the success overlooked when debris exchanges the lighting in happy places.

We address stories as if we know how they came.

Like, there's some list for sure.

As neatly categorized frames to be pointed at.

Not the price of only showing up for what's liked.

Nor the pieces paying out pain simply because there is some list for sure.

So, here we go, moving without maps and peering through to checklists.

Up close ones that are weak when anger, fear and hurt get personal.

Our signs and symptoms harvesting hope to put the branding down.

Because when left unattended, heroic doesn't need a list to be there. 

Beauty doesn't need a list to flourish.

Colors don't need a list to elaborate.

And stories don't need a list to love.

But when left unattended, a list does a good job in making it seem as if there's no other way of being. 

Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell

Accessories #425

Heroic is the kind of art where pressure turns into likeable.

Is so much more adventurous than fear.

Never feels like it doesn't belong.

And sounds so great when read out loud.

Weak, however, is the type of art that is deeper than what it seems. 

Packed with seconds, thirds and more that are everywhere.

Never feels like the scuff marks are anything but exhausting. 

And struggles with the loneliness in not feeling at home.

Or so that's how both of those acts are echoed far and wide.

Quotes fueled by emotional tributes.

Smiles that don't match but are grins just the same.

Hikes in the rain and faulty flashlights limiting the views.

And neither asking for permission to chat about life as they do.

Two names tearing up about what they've been through.

Relating to war and hearts that beat fast.

The urgency trending in the being and the not being.

And the tiredness that comes along the way.

Or so that's how both of those shows express themselves.

Different feelings within similar lines.

Tangible and intimate words that sometimes lean towards each other.

Thoughts overthinking visits to a one-stop shop. 

And plots holding forever at the end of each aisle.

Labels sitting around detached from curiosity.

Sounds tracing the same lines again and again.

Composure leaving questions for some later day.

And black and white ideas that are just so noisy.

Or so that's how both of those limbs play their parts.

Not in separate artworks but on each side of the very same one.

Two meanings with twists and turns in gardens with all that there is.

For the days when it makes no sense that upright includes being underneath.

And where never too much is still startled by the blue that remains at its feet.

Because favorable and ruffled things are always active in our homes. 

As a part of who we think we are and who we think we are not.

As the real connections sunk somewhat in the mud, keeping an eye towards sunny skies.

As the names that don't own the place despite our voices reading their lines.

And as the exchangeable and yet moody accessories impacting our art every single step of the way.

Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell 

Color Check #424

There are spots in our gardens that sink from the weight of the word known as heroic.

That touch the power of loneliness in being strong.

Remember the uncertainty caused by weakness standing in the same room as bravery.

Switch into smiles so as not to ruin courage basking in the light of moments. 

Breathe in the burden of helping elsewhere and not being real in needing support.

And write paragraphs about it.

Because while heroic's artistry looks right on the surface, the inside says what it wants too anyways.

Conversations about messy lists that go on and on. 

Talk trickling down like the tears from the label of sadness.

Whispers building connection with other murmurs.

Speeches about what's rejectable.

Comments about what is relevant.

And even other stuff calling for bravery's name to be pushed to the side.

Because while heroic's artistry looks like a yes, all the time, that isn't how that companionship is packed within us. 

Rolled along every time.

Agreed with, in all moments.

Operating in the heart.

Hearing other stories.

Made into flowers. 

And fixed in colors.

Because while heroic's artistry looks good amongst the details, it doesn't guarantee where it stays.

Promise that there won't be more conflicts.

Engage with reasons to dream.

Erase fear or sadness.

Assure success in feeling valued.

Commit to happiness.

And joke about anger's live performances.

Because while heroic's artistry looks like it just rules in the upheaval, it can also make changes where gentle is the way.

There's nothing quite like heroic when it feels right but then there's nothing quite like it when we follow that belief away from seeing it in survival, the quiet and needing support. 

When the sometime warrior in us doesn't recognize that we deserve to be rallied for as well.

And when strong does everything it thinks it should but still doesn't know how to love us in the weeds. 

For if we do a color check, heroic may settle into colors we like however it also isn't shy about breaking down into some of the bluest of blues.

Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell    

If the Flower Fits #423

Heroic is a particular word.

The kind that doesn't have to ask to be noticed.

The perfect fit for a safety label.

For the strength to vibrate deeply.

To roll along the lines coloring happiness along the way.

And it does until it doesn't.

Not because it wavers but because we do.

Not because it's heavy but because our own weight remains.

Not because it's easy but because it's easy to hold it over us.  

Heroic is a particular word.

The kind that feels good.

A truth that can be seen.

A standing out and also a fitting in.

A validation that works. 

And it does until it doesn't.

Not because its evidence fades, but because stories curve away.

Not because it isn't right for us but because there's still unfinished business within us.

Not because the moments aren't ours but because there are uncharted ones ahead.

Heroic is a particular word.

The kind that's easier to understand elsewhere.

A version that's feels misleading within our own dialogues.

The type that's easily ignored when there are budget cuts.

Something unknowingly leaned upon in survival.

And it is until it isn't.

Not because it changed but because allowing us to be is changing.

Not because it's perfected but because we don't need the details to be just right.

Not because it's wearing our best but because consistency shows our strength.

Heroic is a particular word.

The kind that isn't certified as valuable.

A smaller image that's overlooked.

As a quiet and almost silent campaign.

As a contributor whose meaning feels dull.

And it is until it isn't.

Not because the light was turned up but because our views are adjusting to the lighting.

Not because it's no longer whispering but because our shows are worth leaning in to hear.

Not because it's now holds confidence but because we can embrace shaky input.

Heroic is a particular word whose recordable events have been normalized by certain details.

But if we define our gardens with the edges from other gardeners, the tour dates of our brave will be in the dark.

If the flower fits over there, then it fits over here too because even when we are stuck with flickering lights and weak points, resilience continues to bloom in our homes.

Heroic is a particular word, but in stories crowded with moments, it isn't the only one.  

Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell