Promise

The air at the beginning of spring,

–Crisp,

Clean,

and full of promise.

I don't quite see it in myself but

My parents do.

I can paint

And I can write– creatively,

not much else–

And art by itself can be... impractical.

But an artistic mind is what I'm given.

Creativity doesn't make sense without logic.

Science tells us many things.

Creativity is for "right-brainers"

and logic for the lefties.

Science tells us that our thoughts are essentially

just a chain reaction– synapse,

after synapse,

after synapse...

But chemistry also tells us that nothing is there for no reason.

Every chemical reaction continues

until one chemical is completely used up.

And so, what of art?

Is it, too, of some greater purpose,

or just to be used up?

Logic is nothing without creativity.

But how would we have discovered science,

had it not been for creative curiosity?

Without creativity, would we ever be curious?

Would we find a solution to any of our problems?

Without it all,

where would we be?

So now I see–

The promise in being

An artist,

An amateur,

A question-maker and risk-taker.

So now I smell

–I feel

–I embrace

the crisp, clean spring air,

full of promise.