Long ago I heard of a place whose boundaries could protect but not
confine the endless information welling in
Unspoken questions and unheard of answers battle for dominance over
my changing voice.
Through chaos and chilling passageways, I search the brick and mortar.
My stifled thoughts reverberate against the brittle steel that lines the walls.
Rumor has it that there is a secret door to the room that can
house my hope
and acknowledge my turmoil.
The echo tells me that I have the key.
The lonely lint curled inside my pocket confronts the echo for a liar.
Do I search for the key or the door?
I turn the corner, light streaming through the window before me informs
me that presently I am the master of both.
Heart on my sleeve,
enveloped in the fresh Crayola scent of possibility, opportunity,
and the familiar unknown
I enter a solid room of vanishing walls and frozen time.
A shifting wood grain whispers in my ear,
"Creativity, Imagination, and Optimism welcome all those who enter here.
Upon departure you shall
know all that you have brought with you.
For best results:
Check your ego at the door.
Welcome to the Art Room"
~Sheila L. Kalkbrenner