Are we artists all the same?
we, the multi-disciplined
divining a spiritual path
questioning unquestioned reform
Novelist, short story author, essayist, poet, painter
We have a list beside our names
objectifying our existence
and grounding us a permanent fixture
While we strive for freedom
against false gravity
the weight of awards and titles
the pain the being misunderstood
consistently
The artist is but a reflection of the mind
the life a play, a temporary gimmick
a genius’ work is rarely critiqued
by a mind of equal stature
The spiritual path appears to isolate
and still we cannot help but wonder
when others will understand
that it was worth it in the end
The Halfwit Writer 