literature

The Fate of the Artist

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Literature Text

I walk across sidewalks and lawns,
avoiding the stares of neighbors.
They think they see the man,
not the artist,
who never sees the light of day.
Why today,
they wonder, gazes averted,
does he venture out?
I wonder if they think
that I am hunting them,
eyeing them hungrily,
carnivorous appetite
looming within me.

I'm not, of course.
I have simply come out into the world
because we all must come out into the world.
We must see the sun,
just as we must see the shadow.
The artist cannot not sit still,
devil playing with his idle hands.
He must seize his own fate,
and, if need be, he must
walk into the bright glare
of Ra, and accept the stares,
the glares,
the misguided gazes of those
the law would call his peers.
...
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