Unseen

 

It must be a relief to our weary worn souls

To sing arias in the shower

To paint pictures on anonymous rocks

To dance with the vacuum cleaner

To write poems for the trees

With no fear of judgment

Or critique

Or evaluations and grades

No quest for applause

Or awards

Or credit where credit is due

Just for the joy

The chance to get lost

to add little drops of gorgeousness

In the unseen corners of the world