Art.

I heard once, somewhere, that you're supposed to feel something when you look at art, not understand it. Understanding what you're seeing isn't the point. The point is finding some emotional connection with the art. Or at least that's how I understand it.

I think poetry's a form of art. I've read poems that make me sad, that make me happy, that make me long for a place I've never been. I love poetry and gosh dang it I wish I were any good at it. Unfortunately, I just don't really understand language well enough to have a string of words turn out so beautifully. I wish I could take the experiences I've had and put them into the right sort of words so that others can feel how I did.

But alas, that's not an innate talent I possess. I suppose my lot in life is not to be a poet. Oh well.

Buuut I do wanna share one of my favorite poems with y'all :) I don't understand it, really. And I don't understand why it gives me goosebumps or butterflies--especially since it's a love poem and I'm not in love with anyone. I just know that it does.

So yeah, here goes. (It's kinda long, but it's good, I promise.)

"Peel back my skin and it won't be bones you will find. Hiding under the muscles the tissues the scars and the freckles are decaying timbers washed ashore. I am a sinking ship made of unsinkable parts. I am an old boat, built without a rudder, a tattered sheet for a sail. Can you see what I've been trying to show you, that I go where the breeze decides to carry me and you, my love, are a hurricane.

I am made from the creaking beams and rusted nails of a lonely vessel on a lonely sea. I am covered and coated, dusted with old salt water and the frail residue of moonlight. The oars and the compass, the anchor and the wheel, have long since abandoned me. Can you hear what I've longed to tell you, that I go where the waves wish to deliver me and you, my love, are the tide.

 Press your ear to my chest and listen, where a heartbeat should sing you will hear the melancholy songs of tired whales. The unsettled sigh and explosion of breath as they find the surface once again. Can you taste the salt on my lips? Can you listen to the words I've been aching to say, that I go where the lights pull me and you, my love, are the stars. 

Stare through the portholes of my eyes across the grey blue and green they float upon. Hold tight to the timbers hiding under this flesh and fill the empty sail with your grace. I am the fragments of a shattered ship filled with ancient songs sung by ancient souls. Can you feel me falling into you as you leak into me, that I am a sinking ship made from sinking parts and you, my love, are the sea."

-Tyler Knott Gregson

Yeah, so that's it. I like that it doesn't have to make perfect sense. I like that I don't have to know exactly what the author was thinking when he wrote it to understand it. I like that it sparks my imagination and makes me feel all these crazy emotions. I just like it :) 

Anyway, that's all that's on my mind. Nothing deep or profound, nothing life-changing, nothing mind-blowing or awe-inspiring; just something that makes me happy :)