“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.” ― Émile Zola

Day wakes the night

Silent Sunday bells;

All the world’s asleep

While I lie awake

Shackled by non

But my own mind

It breeds of things I cannot control

How foolish it would be to sleep

How unlike a tortured soul.

The days and nights are all the same

Why be us ruled by them?

For let the mind roar you awake

Waking the thoughts of your soul.

I am what I am.

I know that now.

My days are the lessons of my nights’ mistakes.

As the life I lead lies awake

Why be I, asleep, to be mundane?

We, are not mundane.

In you I know

There is something

Wake up and see

Hide it from nothing;

Shield it from everything.

They lie in you


Lines that need a drawing

Lines that need a crossing

Lines that need an expression

Lines that need creation

Wake and see

In slumber dream;

Let your soul roar out

The chaos from the calm

And draw the lines from your palms

The life-line to your art.




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