Plant your seeds, farmer.
Do not carry them with you in a bag.
They'll wither and die and turn to dust
escaping forever in the coils of the wind.
Write your thoughts, dreamer.
Do not leave them muddled in your head.
They'll flow formless like a shifting river,
eluding forever your intentions toward change.
Paint your canvas, artist:
dreamer of vistas in your rainbow mind's eye.
Pour your mind out your brush,
unless you cherish always your inaction.
Grope in the dark, sad one.
stretch out your hands to find life.
Open your eyes and your heart
for the light, you'll find it if you try.
Speak your mind, human.
Scream if you can't find the words.
You won't get what you want unless you voice it:
Unlock your own door to your courage.
Write your truth, poet:
Even if they won't understand.
Winnow away the cliche from your living
until your own soul flies freely from your pen.
Seek your own truth, sinner.
Define what your bones know are right.
Crumble the established laws of your land
until you find your own life in your hands.
~Anna Chlewicki Lightfoot
