Some days it's hard to find balance
and "one foot in front of the other" seems more like a math equation than instinct.
Where the piles of "should do" dominate the "have done"
and dreams slip with days faster than I can catch them.

I feel like I've been absent here.  Like my writing has fallen from me. When I come to write, I feel distant from my words.  I question where I've been, if I've spent all that I have, if I'm just simply drained...
I'm not. I know I'm not.

It took until today to realize, why, if I love writing so much, have I left it behind?..

In all actuality, I haven't.

I'm simply putting it into my work.
I'm giving it away in metal.
I'm passing poetry from hand to hammer and when the end result speaks, I simply have nothing left to say.

I'm promising emotion in the form of something tangible. I'm forging not only my feelings, but those of others. I'm simply writing the thoughts, or love, or fears, or strength of someone else- in my own medium.
I'm pushing myself, and I'm growing... and somewhere along the way I think I had forgotten that sometimes things are better left to just be admired. That not everything needs to be exhausted by explanation. That in the end, no mater what I say, people will form their own ideas, their own thoughts, their own story... and that's actually more important to me as an artist. The pieces I make are more or less, my voice, my words, my thoughts- put into my own code.

The turquoise, the texture, the dots, the lines, the pattern, the positioning. Within me, it all has meaning.

And so, here are my words. A few of them. Transcribed in silver.










Have a wonderful Thursday.

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