the art of the art

the art is to not know

what the art is

to hide it

under the critics

who tell you this is this

but not that

because this

and who realize later

that the art stays unknown

for it was in them too

until they too were under the critics

of he is being too loud

or she went quietly

or they were surrounded by loved ones

and their art

*

lightning gives ways to rain

which gives ways to clouds

which gives way to the first written language

though no one knew how to read

including us on the beach in summer

connected by hands born from the waters

that made those same clouds

and gave us the literacy to try to decipher the universe

found in between elements made soon after the beginning

that would make us

though they didn’t know it

but are since happy for having known what it means to be

more than formless form

more than loveless love

more than what we could provide

for all of it was provided in us

without us having to shock the world

in electricity or light

we thunder laughter though

then

let go

the day fades

the clouds disappear against the night

we lose the language of us

in the desperate silence of beginnings

and the rain that reconnects

becomes braille against our blind skin