A whip of a brush across canvas like a knife, cutting into delight and
You’ve created the slash of creativity
The first blow in a series of punches that would become a painting.
The twirl of a pottery wheel like the twirl of a dancer,
Her tutu spins out, long legs hide crushed toes and blood, blood, blood.
Cracked hands shape length, beauty along with the Earth.
The first gasp of breath as a baby is born
like the breath a musician takes before stepping onto the stage
Like the breath he takes before instrument meets lips
Because living is revolutionary
Because loving is revolutionary
Because art is revolutionary
And darling? Let’s be artists.