… everything takes time

…. more often than not, I come across a piece of art—music, painting, photo, writing—that compels me to write a piece of my own. Somehow, whatever it is just gets the gears turning in my mind and makes sense of something that I’ve [usually] already wanted to write but just couldn’t figure out how. Sometimes it creates a whole new thought that I’m always thankful falls into place.

Jessie J. If you don’t know the name, shameful; she is one of the most talented people of our generation. Late last year, I was fortunate enough to catch wind of the waves she was creating from across the pond and have been blown away by her ever since I discovered who she was and the various projects she has been behind. I love her entire Who You Are album, as it was on repeat for weeks, but for an entire day I had the song Big White Room on constant cycle. I had heard it countless times before but I guess I needed to experience a few things and not particularly be thinking about them for everything to click. On that day it fired a few neurons in my brain and the right ones connected.

This poem is a byproduct, by no means does it carry the same message as the song [check that out here] but as I touched on before, art inspires art …

Great Divide

no one told us to never mind how transparent glass could be

that it’s always hard to judge its thickness

so here we are

facing each other after months of crashing

trying to break through

for once we approach with caution

and place our hands to the glass

finger after finger, then palm

only to finally realize how far apart we are

seeing clearly now

the magnitude of empty space

we never really touched despite what was felt

taking steps back

we can see the glass now

tainted by handprints

hanging in limbo

halfway to where they were trying to go

not even bullets in the form of Fuck You’s

can shatter the pane

how could they if the I Love You’s didn’t

our own words ricocheting off unforeseen barriers

we’re ducking from the things we’ve said

causing more damage to ourselves

than was ever intended for the other

the glass thickens as our visions blur with tears

and we’re left wading on opposite sides of the river we cried

ready to tread, fighting not to drown

… love is not about finding the right person, but creating the right relationship. It’s not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build until the end …