Thanks. To the people who paint pictures.

And take photos.

And make pottery.

And write songs.

And sew and knit

And summon the heart to take their work out into the world

Even when it seems that no one wants to see it

Or buy it. And who sit alone at tables

With crackers and soda,

And smile and wait

And listen to the creative spark

And the light within

And do not tell their struggle stories

Or complain about getting old

And give up on love

And don’t have all of the answers

And seek out the mystery and magic of the world

And are warriors for light and beauty.

And who do not sell angst and lament.

Blessed are those who love their lives,

For they are sacred to me.