I am the painter

Who reaches for his camel hair brush

To again attempt to recreate

Onto a reincarnated tree

An unbelievable sunset,

I am the dancer

Who through graceful movements

And passionate music

Communicates deep emotions.

I am the carver

Who strips away

At a rough and ugly block of wood

To reveal the exquisite creature

he sees hidden inside,

I am the writer

Who resists sleep to record

The flash of inspiration

Some ordinary daily routine has given him,

I am the potter

Who takes a simple lump of clay

And punishes it, molds it, and forms it

Into the sculpture he sees in his minds eye,

For all the artists I have been

Never ask the well-meant, but

Painful question

“Why? Why not create something reliable?”

Hesitantly, I offer an explanation,

A reason for my madness:

I do not create because I can,

I create because I must!!!

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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