The Making


When my life feels meaningless

And every day is getting

More and more mundane


I pick up the concept of creativity,

Stare at the emptiness,

And then make something.


The making makes meaning

Of endless birth and death

And gives me something to exalt.


I made this thing!

These words, strewn together,

Hold my world up with hope.


In doing the art

I stretch beyond despair,

Engaging in the now with interest.


It doesn’t ever need to be seen.

This creation is just for me—

A gift I’ve given my soul.


While doing, I am transformed

From someone who doesn’t care

Into someone who does


And that simple process

Has rescued my life

Over and over again.