Order/Chaos

Somehow I can find the poetry hidden in everything. I guess it's how I experience order and beauty in this chaotic world. From the mediocre to the extreme--the dreadful, the painful, the wholly uneventful--there's got to be something there to make it all make sense. In it all, something must make it worth all the while. And art is how I uncover it. Somehow, everyone has got to deal. Right?