dance of resilience.

I am good at this.

Truly good, my calling almost, but I am careful to make that connotation because the connection in my brain has yet to grasp this sentiment. It still believes we are trying to marry our way to financial stabilities.

But, on days like today, I am once again grounded by the fact that I do actually know what I am doing, and with that I am blessed.

I still turn to the devil, and it is a necessity within my craft. I cannot create such beautiful, thought-provoking pieces without consulting with the hell from which discomfort was born. Satan kissed my mind as I exited my mother’s womb and branded my imagination with his touch. As an artist, this is my battle; I must dance but keep my head above the water. If I get too carried away, I will drown, become stuck and beg for a tragedy to remove me from the rut.

Enticed I am, but careful I must be.

Leaping between flames, we tango in hell, as I grab inspirations that will help build the foundation I plan for my future family.

With love as my only form of protection, I soldier on, secure in the fact that this is my calling.

Solidified that this is what I was born to do, we waltz.