Ode to Aida

Living fully counts most.

For this, she denies no one a piece of her heart.

Loyal to devotion and most seriously true. She bursts pieces of her heart out to float in the air, riding on sunbeams to reach faraway places, every time she sings, every time she dances, every time she arts.

She’s formless and formed all at once; she moves like graceful smoke walking in mid-air. Or she dives and throws wild fists of exhale into an ocean of air, now filled with exuberance.

The love inside, it overflows and seeps into language and images and motions that make their way through her mouth, her pencil, her swirling dance, and into the hearts of all who witness.

And sometimes, she finds ways to access the love that lives in nooks and gray areas, where love little lives. We here on planet blue sadly act in ways that create spaces where less love lives, and she knows this. She goes to those dark crannies on bright days with vitality-filled sun power at her back. And she fills the space so that it can drink the rays of light, of love. Her wisdom is core-wisdom. For her, this is not just fun and games. Everything counts.