I am unfit to thrive in this place
the rules, the priorities, the logic, the wants of the masses,
they brutally and completely overlook the best of me
my greatness is alien: confusing, unintelligible, irrelevant,
lost in an ocean of the lost
my ordinary is unworthy of my pride
but it alone can pay the bills
dreaming to leave,
I am tethered to the ground by the gravity of common voices yearning
for commiseration at the lowest common denominator
how dare I want more?
my wish insults the well from which I drink
what have I if I lose my life? what is life if I cannot wish?
life is tension, stretching need from need, want from want,
soul from bones...until I snap
life is everything...until I am nothing
what am I if I neglect my soul?
what is a soul but its inability to lie?
despite all practical wisdom, I am a slave to my standards
I cannot help but create towards them
until my work reflects what I, being who I am,
ought to accomplish
but I sense now that the day of my greatest accomplishment,
the day when I feel the most proudly myself,
will also be the day of my deepest disappointment
on that day, I will step back from my work,
breath in the freedom of its release,
and realize that I am utterly alone in my joy,
and complete in my sorrow
