I have a resume, a business; a team, a last name I still confuse since I have returned to it, and things I love to piece together. I love-love; I love to sit in moments and see things; ugly things too. We all have both things; that make each other true; light and shadows.

Maxwell's Muse lives outside my morning routine; conference calls, the suited-up meeting, the well-written response, overthinking, passing, momming and high heels. I try without them and there is a difference. In this space I ponder this transient space we all abide in through Art; Worship, mythology, Sufism, Truth and Beauty. All dreaming, fantasizing, and flirting with poetry as I churn words with my fingers through art on canvas.

To write songs filled with adoration of the global south and to paint portraits as odes to its depth and brilliance.

To Lovers.

To Seekers.

To everyone who sings, Free. Free. Free. Free.

Poetry arrives like a fever and until I've written the words down and wrestled with them I am caged in a well.