As haunted as I am healed,
both darkness and light still seep through the cracks in the doorway. Joy isn’t just felt—it’s earned.
Originally conceived as an ode to joy,
I continue to wrestle with the relentless weight of grief,
pushed to rapturous extremes.
I've extended my reach by opening up emotionally,
yet the shadow of death lingers just as heavily.
Straddling the rare divide between conceptual art and country music,
I inhabit a unique space.
For me, art is a deliberate act of necessity, a lifeline.
Memory? I see it as a form of fiction, fluid and unreliable.
And through it all, I’ve rediscovered a deep appreciation for the staggering, often irrational, beauty that still surrounds us.