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You have inherited a world that is broken.
When you look around,
you’ll see all of the things
that we’ve done wrong.
Make your own list.
But, I can tell you this:
the thing that is our saving grace,
is you, young artist.
When you look at the world,
find some little thing
that no one else sees
and you, please, take that little thing
and you wrap that little thing in a tutu.
Cause it to leap and twirl.
Make it a delight that heals
what is broken in this world.
Young artists, please, find a crack
in the war machine and you take that
crack and you beat out of it a melody,
you hum it, sing it, belt it out loud until
war forgets itself, until war collapses
in on itself and dies.
Please do this young artist.
I know that sometimes you look
around yourself and you wonder
what someone like you
can do about this world, but
you don’t let yourself slump.
Young artist stand up.
Please, young artist,
blow your horn
until the music can be seen as light
and paint it please. Paint the
world as it should be and mold
what is beautiful.
You are artists; important to
the survival of our souls. Without
you we’d have only darkness.
Please be the stage light; the stage play actors.
Be the scene directors that sow our ideas.
Be the example of
real emotion, real empathy, real compassion, and
real love lest we forget what love feels like.
Young artists, take time and freeze it.
capture the punctum moments of tenderness of
things small in size, but great and design.
Let your artistry be a seed for the artists
that come after you.
Help them build on what you made.
Give them plenty where life is bare
and, please, once you’ve done all of these things
write them down for those who come after you
so that they know the world was saved;
made better by artist.
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