The trouble exists when you become more thirsty than curious. That which you choose to chase will define you. See that what you seek is not a product of the limiting ego, but with the conviction and the limitless truth of the heart, where nothing is contrived, or imposed, only free of external approval, and unnecessary accolades. Which seeds will you water, the flowers or the weeds? You are at your most powerful without anything to prove. Follow your pulse. Undo the great forgetting, true nature is love. What motivates you? You are what you seek. Nourish spirit.

And if the scars were physical, visible, you wouldn’t recognize me anyway. And if the scars were cynical, the threat of emptiness would gain.

 

 

 

“If the artist, however faithful to his personal vision of reality, becomes the last champion of the individual mind and sensibility against an intrusive society and an officious state has, as Frost said, a lover’s quarrel with the world. In pursuing his perceptions of reality he must often sail against the currents of his time. This is not a popular role. Yet in retrospect, we see how the artist’s fidelity has strengthened the fibre of our national life. If sometimes our great artists have been the most critical of our society. It is because their sensitivity. And their concern for justice, which must motivate any true artist. Makes him aware that our Nation falls short of its highest potential. I see little of more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture.Society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him. We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda, it is a form of truth. For poets, there is nothing worse for our trade than to be in style. In free society art is not a weapon and it does not belong to the spheres of polemic and ideology. The highest duty of the writer, the composer, the artist is to remain true to himself. And to let the chips fall where they may.”

‘I’m trying to preach to ya’ll what’s important, so hard for me to ignore ignorance. I Don’t know why I feel it’s my place, I know you see the pain in my face. I call the shots and move at my pace. But I understand it’s all a big race, I understand you want that big face. But I wouldn’t bite the bait they threw me. Be cautious where you play, there’s darkness in our ages.’

“People gon love what they don’t need, I remember what the OG’S told me. You better shine bright when the lights down. Less talk, more show, better pipe down.

Ahhh nobility, what a strange and egotistical word. But here I am, choosing to flee all the irrational debauchery and capacity for delusion on some impulsively instinctive hope of sensibility. Escaping the violence but not the inaudible screams of a hunger painted in pleasantries, missing it’s mark. Far from beliefs shaped with feeling rather than criteria. Although that was there too, it only mattered to those who needed it. And I, as it so happened, did not. I held my senses in the highest regard while alternating great sadness and an untouchable stoicism, but always allowing, watching, listening to the sounds. The potential and trust in all the unknowing encouraging me along the way. Finding refuge in it’s significant insignificance, paling in comparison to many suffering seasons where comfort came against my will but truth had once ripped me right open to a vastness and a depth of sadness forever buried underneath it all. Strength is built on this kind of thing they say, but there is something to be said about fragility, The err of my nature that seemed to offend so many, so many who pride themselves on composure and false bravado, not knowing their own transparency. Afraid to allow for more than one dimension. Confined by convention. Your human is showing, I feel like saying, but how dare I accuse anyone of that.
So I’ll take what’s left of your words, what’s left of my wounds, and find light in lessons cast in shadows and foreign ways to love. Because outside of yourself you see, exists a reality beyond your peripheral, One you never cared to know before the thumping of your chest, before the conscious closing and your true colours stained everything inside the box you put me in. Cutting me down to size, so I could fit inside. Painting me in black and white with all the indignities and lack of imagination your capacity enabled. Finding comfort in never having known me at all. Finding comfort in never having known you at all.

and my hearts in the strangest place, ya that’s how it’s started.