Creates the Artist - Poem
Creates the artist
And next to them Fate, wicked, stands.
“Why do you hustle, oh poor one?
For fame and fortune,
For blessings and honor,
Or just in obstinacy?
Do you not see that
Day after day
The others only for bread think?”
But the artist creates,
Does not stop.
“I want,” they respond, “to leave a mark;
I shall not be a slave to reality.
I feel,
I create.
There are no other destinies for me,
No hard times, no obstacles.
Only freedom.
Every other one leaves not a drop
But I hope I shall leave a mark,
Like this,
In one or two hearts…
What more than that is there to seek from the world?”
Fate stayed there for a while and looked upon the artist.
Then thought "I shall not take their soul"
And left the artist alone.
And next to them Fate, wicked, stands.
“Why do you hustle, oh poor one?
For fame and fortune,
For blessings and honor,
Or just in obstinacy?
Do you not see that
Day after day
The others only for bread think?”
But the artist creates,
Does not stop.
“I want,” they respond, “to leave a mark;
I shall not be a slave to reality.
I feel,
I create.
There are no other destinies for me,
No hard times, no obstacles.
Only freedom.
Every other one leaves not a drop
But I hope I shall leave a mark,
Like this,
In one or two hearts…
What more than that is there to seek from the world?”
Fate stayed there for a while and looked upon the artist.
Then thought "I shall not take their soul"
And left the artist alone.
Posted in Poem
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