What would I do for free?
This question isn’t as simple as it seems.
Nothing comes without cost—
My time, my expertise, my reputation.
Even without renumeration,
Trading small bits of myself,
Expecting a different kind of compensation.
I might volunteer,
Not for money,
Not for fame,
But for something unseen—
The joy of doing,
The satisfaction found
From discovery
In the act itself.
Yet, the world
Refuses to recognize
The work it takes
To paint life’s vibrant hues
Pushing our words
Our portraits
Our songs
To unopened notebooks
Unseen backgrounds
And unheard white noise
If time were free,
(ah, free time)
I’d still spend it
To dive
Deeper into the canyons of creativity—
Writing,
Photography,
Video production,
Illustration.
Each, a way to explore,
Each, a different kind of pay
Unseen
But deeply felt.
