Art and Love

Many ask how things like art and love can blossom in such a hardened, pain riddled, bloodied world.

The artists and lovers in the world can count the ways to cause either flower to blossom in response to the critics going through life like hard shells coloring everything to be black, white, and dull.

One for the money, paid in exchange for pain and metallic flavored blood. Often as the result of the loss of one’s Innocence but stimulated by stubborn rooted spite.

Two for the honey flavored love, still pouring out of vacant hearts still broken years after the end of the rendezvous seasoned affair but revived to run on naive colored hope and the stubborn belief that true love is the light of life.

Three for the emboldened award of fame you get, often given after you’ve worked yourself bloody to the bone hurling yourself towards the finish line after running on hardening stubborn spite and stimulating hope.

Four for the painful price you pay, the pricetag being your sanity and peace of mind, often the two being the most vital tools when sacrificing sleep, spending hours in the early A.M curating the perfect piece of art or crying over a broken heart that was hit by Cupid’s arrow.

Five is for the hours spent perfecting one’s craft of artistic talent, spending forever looking for the smallest cracked imperfection in their piece of art.

Six is for art in love as so many lovers look for the smallest imperfections in fear of the impending hurt and pain that would come as the result of being blindsided from any crack of wrong flung at any two people blinded by love.

Such in life so in art and love. The two shall forever be intertwined as no art is made without love and the story of love itself is seen as a work of art.

Hope Jacobs