Art for the Void 1 - Creation

Every day I question the quality of my creations,

And every day I question my passion

When the same world surrounds me,

But I also feel I must give an explanation

Every time I act toward self-expansion,

Out of fear I might’ve crossed another’s boundary.

I’ve studied great kings and conquerors,

I’ve taught myself the desire for annihilation,

The desire for my mere presence to make a difference

In the hearts of friends and minds of enemies,

But then I remember I’m a wanderer,

The demons are mere fabrications,

I haven’t needed to be present to make a difference

Since pain etched the memories that give silence it’s serenity.

This war within the fool I am has no victor,

It’s not day versus night but satisfaction versus progress,

I could love these words yet they’ll be erased with no remorse

Without the perfection I’d expect from my master self,

Who am I to dictate what is and isn’t worthy,

Years of experience and I’m still the student who knows nothing,

I write for myself but when showing a piece of mine,

I’m at the mercy of another’s perspective,

As I said before, I was afraid of the possibility of miss-stepping,

But as I’m writing this I realize I forgot I’m even supposed to be rhyming,

I now see past the vale that binds so many to their tribulations,

And now I either bless or subject myself to the words of… whomever,

This is for me, the void, and if I’m lucky… a few harsh critics.

May every dream be worth the agony.