Sworn to Secrecy

I am struggling to some extent

with the lack of success

of my artistic work over the last year.

It’s not a sense of failure

nor do I feel unfulfilled,

but I am at times looking down

at the page

or listening back

to the sounds

and thinking “I only seem to be getting better.”

It is no doubt in part to blame

on my own isolation.

I have sequestered myself

with the only consistent things in my life-

my own optimism

my desire to mutilate ink

and endless grey smoke

In this tower I am a lonely wizard

too shameless to pretend

that I don’t feel that way.

Too shameless to pretend

that I don’t feel alone.

From here there is a vantage point,

and I can see light hiding

behind the horizon

but the people below, indistinct.

I’ve made forays down

to the paper world beneath

and shared a little

of the witchcraft

I’m perfecting

but it is mostly to jacketed backs and empty fields.

I have known great success

alone,

in silent repose or roaring mania,

but so few have known it.

It’s not the fear of blight

or obsolescence

but that these rotting golems

and tattered homunculi

will live without dancing,

their sole purpose

undone.

If you are out there,

I made it for you.

I’ll keep it till you find it.

And I’ll pray that you like it.