Pain in the Art

What is so important in something we create
Does not art fulfill simply because it is expressed
Is the artist great due to fame and popularity
Or is the inspiration to a few enough acclaim
To touch one with an expression,
To simply have a voice,
To connect on that creative level,
Angels would rejoice…
 
Being an artist can be a lonely life
We put everything we are into our work
And then share it with an unforgiving world
To say our skin is thick is mockery
Because to create something so intimate
We instinctively expose our souls
Piece by piece we touch the human condition
Some will embrace it, others say it stinks
 
So what is so important in something we create
Do we mouth the expected enlightened words
And say we do not need praise
Or do we admit, as artists thru and thru
That when we create we share ourselves with you
Piece by piece, bit by bit, a taste, a tease, a little glimpse
When rejection comes anew, pardon a moment of sadness
For in that broken instant, heart gets trampled in review
 
Yet we as artists continue to express
With paper, ink, paint, and digital address
For we are the dreamers, the keeper of saints
The speakers of sin, and the historians template
We capture a moment in the cosmic plan
Shine a light upon it, unbiased, so others understand
Or they can step into another mind, a sunset, a trial, a life
We the artists are the voice of posterity

Unblinking, unstoppable, and unrequited
 
RRG ©10.17.18