Oh Creativity,
In your presence,
I become luminous.
You fill me up.
In ways I cannot name.
In spaces I didn’t know were empty.
When you move through me,
I am more than myself.
More than flesh and worry
and the weight of ordinary days.
In your presence,
I become luminous.
My oldest companion.
Present in crayon scribbles on bedroom walls.
In songs hummed while washing dishes.
In the way I arrange my thoughts, just so.
There is something about you that stands alone.
Like first love.
Like grief that cracks you open.
Like joy that spills from every pore.
Your flow, self-evident through other hands.
The writer bleeding truth onto blank pages.
The mother weaving souls from starlight and bone.
The child painting dreams with muddy hands.
You wear a thousand faces.
Speak in endless tongues.
Yet your touch is felt by all
A restless inheritance.
Passed from the God
who spoke worlds into being
to the grandmother
who quilts her stories into fabric.
Generation after generation catching your fever.
Making us co-conspirators in everything beautiful.
You are the reason I breathe deeper.
See colors brighter.
Believe in tomorrow.
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