Simply Necessary

Everyone stands in front, arms crossed,  

eyes heavy with expectation, seeking meaning.  

They poke, prod at brushstrokes, at silence,  

hoping to excavate some grand revelation,  

like peeling petals from a flower, dissecting  

beauty until there’s nothing left to hold.  

But art doesn’t need to explain itself,  

it doesn’t owe you coherence or clarity.  

It only asks to be felt, unraveled softly,  

not like a riddle, but like a sunrise.  

Something quiet crackling just under your skin,  

a memory surfacing, a melody you hum.  

Your chest swelling for reasons you can’t name.  

That is the point—what blooms inside you.  

Stop chiseling at it; just let it be,  

for every heartbeat it gifts is enough.