That Folly
I find it everywhere. All around me.
It seeps through the pores of reality.
It consumes me completely.
Poetry. Art. INSPIRATION!
A confounded soul is mine to own.
Brightly burns my mind. An inextinguishable flame.
Dimly haunts my pocket. An irredeemable mark.
Let each know it! I cry from my broken heart.
Let each know this inverted world.
To follow the call. To avoid the slack jawed, Kraken Spawn absorbed mindless.
Courts loneliness. Sleeps with poverty. And murders joy.
So I continue. That folly.
A deeply moving piece written by Vasthand Slowink of The House of Poets regarding the choice all artists of his time face: Trading wealth and success for the pursuit of their craft.