• An artist kills and creates. He speaks and sings. Records and retells.
    He Entertains or informs or explains or debates.
    Without ever noticing his unnoticing of knowing nothing of the sort.
    He doesn't know that his mirror is The Window on the other side.
    His Muse is another name to those that see his works.
    Beautiful sparks to his eyes, and to others, an explosion.
    No promise of a day where he learns what he writes,
    As lucky others already feel and experience such fairtales.
    But one knows his words are easily echoed,
    Where his meanings are rarely lived.
    To those of knowledge is luck to know such artists.
    Poor artist to always tell the life of one he may never know,
    And may never know what his writings hold in truth.