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Artists Who Stare

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  Artists who Stare into their Creative Self Vignette There is a reckoning in the soul of every artist. It begins as a tremor, a flicker of light, almost imperceptible, yet relentless in hunger. That precise moment when the artist is alone, silhouetted against the radiance of an internal inferno and stares unflinchingly into their creative self. They dwell in the space between inspiration and doubt, bathed in the glow of possibilities and tormented by the fear of mediocrity. To exceed the ordinary, the artist knows, is both a blessing and a curse. Each touch, each word, each act of creation becomes a paradox: an offering to eternity but rooted in the fleeting frailty of the present. What if they fail? What if the light within, so achingly bright, burns them to ash rather than illuminating their path? The act of creation is no longer a choice; it has become a necessity. There is no turning back. Like a lone figure before the furnace of their own making, the artist surrenders to the ...
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Godin Paradise

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Godin Paradise
And when the door is left open
Weary from all those confrontations
Are there any who really feel at ease?
With those who are prepared to pay
And others are paid to ward off evil
With money in hand quality of service is near enough guaranteed
So that the hordes of fattened bodies are able to bask in the sun
Tendered to, by their belief in the protection of wealth
In this a slender time where nothing can be permitted to go wrong
And yet in this field of bliss, we tentatively know reaping can rear and strike






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