One of the most apparent intentions of art is to express an emotion or experience that is to great to be summed up into one word. Within art, it a labeled emotion that holds a complex ocean of secrets and feelings. One may summarize how they feel by saying that they're happy or sad, but this may be but an understatement to a profound freedom and joy that can only be compared to a bird set free. Or perhaps, it is an understatement of a darkness that holds a beauty that consumes any beholder until they are forced to confront the undying loneliness that can only be compared to an abyss of cold solidarity? Regardless of the emotion, art is what expresses and defines an emotion that cannot be summarized into one word. That being said, pick an emotion to describe. It can be any emotion, and it can be described in any way!

True Love

My heart’s pounding, I check my pulse and it’s normal. But it’s fluttering too, like that time I tried ecstasy when I was 19.

I’m flushed in the face, and though my stomach is in a half knot, my lips are sealed in a smile.

My skin is warm, too warm, so I take off my hoodie. Yet the suns instant kiss on my bare arms quickly surpasses agreeable warmth. It doesn’t matter.

This beach, this sunshine, the present lack of breeze, it’s all irrelevant. The way the sun twinkles a billion tiny flashing reflections across the ocean, the sparkles as marvelous as the entire galaxy… it’s remarkable. Yet all logic defies me, and science and chemistry only told me half the story.

I’ve heard about this before. But to feel it, to really feel it, simply doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. And it doesn’t have to.

You’re here, here by my side. My overthinking mind and overzealous heart require no reconciliation. Out of 8 billion other souls, our souls coincide and collide with colorful electricity.

This must be spiritual synergy. The glimmering waves mirror your eyes, shiny black irises exuding diligence and grace. Eyes that speak volumes to me, no words necessary.

Though we’re in paradise right now, we could be anywhere and we’d still be smiling. The North Pole. Hollywood. Space. It wouldn’t matter. Because I could die at this moment and I’d die happy.

Perhaps this feeling will crash like a shore break: collapsing into itself with thundering force, then dissolving into foam before it’s sucked back into the ocean of subconsciousness. Maybe it will slowly erode like the cliffs that we sit upon, chipped away by time, until one day it’s simply gone.

I hope it radiates like the sun, persistently providing abundant luminosity. Giving light for things to grow and helping everyone see. A beacon of constant new beginnings embodied in passionate burning energy.

My heart is swelling, I feel a billion invisible twinkles in the air between us. And yet my hearts still pounding, similar to anxiety. It doesn’t matter. Because you tell me your heart is pounding too, and you feel fluttery.