Known But Scarcely Spoken Of

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May I obtain an epiphany of self-pursuit?

Cease the persuasion of pointed fingers and demanding mouths,

Consume the obtained knowledge of the stacking years,

And grasp the edges of youth, propelling myself into independence!

Those around me are friendly but wary, hopeful but cautious,

Imploring me to lead myself into mundane practicality.

No—they claim—not out of any suppression of art,

But as a tool of safety, for success glides scarcely over those who doodle and color

And make themselves anew with each project, every idea and emotion.

 

The force to draw is known but scarcely spoken of,

For fear that my motivation will become unhinged—off the deep end, perhaps?

Failure is neither a choice nor a locked-in bolt of fate,

As the world’s art did not emerge from one’s stumbling hesitations.

Many others would be content in the lines of technology, engineering or medical fields,

Whom I must admire—for all intents and purposes—for their interest in such topics,

But enjoyment in such fields is out of my spectrum of significance.

Within my niche of pencil and Sharpie, there is no greater sanctuary.

 

Furthermore, there is no greater pain than obstructing such expression,

Though I may be seen as brooding, the art is an escape from timid demeanor,

Expands a universe of possibilities and potentials for one mind,

So that it may open new thoughts and perceptions to the world.

It’s all about connection, right?  We see on the screen the importance of unity,

But each individual part can cause a greater individual, personal impact than the whole.

Every mind has a voice; all equal in depth, yet hold different shades,

Based on experience and wisdom and opinions created and destroyed.

 

Art pinches an opinion, a thought, a glint of sight that few others can see,

And construct into a tangible, visible piece that hopes to make statements or find answers.

Whether to draw or to paint or to write, I hope to grasp a purpose for myself,

Create a vision that can hold a mental value—or epiphany?—to myself or another.

Make a story that calls a memory, a movement, a stance, a recollection of something

Once lost and forgotten, outdated, or yet unheard of.

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