The artist with no audience
Plies his lonely trade
Knowing no one will sense
The value of creations made.
Is there merit in this work?
Common sense says no
But compulsions deep within him lurk
That cause these seeds to grow
Should he turn his back and say,
“Drive these visions away!
Would somehow I could only say
Keep these dreams at bay!”
No he can’t; the lots are cast;
Fate has struck its’ knell
He can only do his best
To strive for Heaven through hell.
- copyright, TC
osolomeo 