The Artist Immortal

I just wanted to pop in here and share a half-baked thought I've had for a while.

I'm posting a series of poems on my Instagram page (@denaeculp.writer if you're interested) that's paying homage to one classic poet a day for the entire month of February. It's an important project to me, and it's been refreshing and fulfilling to find myself in conversation with these great minds and artists.

One thing has stuck out to me since I began writing for this series last month:

Artists never truly die.

I mean, of course they physically die. We all do; there's no escaping that. What I mean is, their ideas never die -- at least, not the ones they were brave enough to release into the world. Their passion still exists in this world, just as long as there's a breathing soul willing to engage with their work.

It's a comforting thought, at least to me. I know that there's an ending to all physical life, and yet there are ways we get to immortalize ourselves in the hearts and minds of others. Still inspiring, still making waves even after the pneuma has left our bodies.

Maybe some find this subject morbid, but I don't think it has to be. If anything, it's good news for the uncertain and the anxious poets out there, like me.

I plan to be here for a long time. And after my "long time" is through, I plan on leaving behind something that will outlive me, something that has a chance of lasting.

Until next time,

D.