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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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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time

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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time
I wanted to fly to another planet, but I first built this swimming pool.
My dreams just started getting away from me, and then I let them go.

In the heat of the day, I plunge into my pool.
My refreshing water.
I own it. I work for it.
When I'm tired of my thoughts I submerge into it.
When I'm confused and in panic, I fall gently into it.
I emerge feeling invigorated and comforted.
Continuation seems so easy once and only after submerging in my cool clear water.

My dreams to transform my life never eventuated.
I knew it once, when  I was promised myself to achieve.
I could aspire.
You never fail when you attempt to chase.

Somewhere I needed to reconcile between the obtainable haves and impossible wants.
Have I succumbed to failed by fabricating my mediocrity prison of pleasure?
Am I floating in falsehood
Am I wallowing in water of hindrance?
I built and tender to this my own 3-meter submersion of comfort.

In my moment before death, will my pool be there in easy memory?
Will it be replaced by morphine?
Will regrets of attainment hound me?.
Will I feel satisfied?
Will I discover what I was born for?

Whilst under water nothing eventuates.
I feel released.
Whilst under water the world passes me by.
I can just watch.
I feel contented.
I am no longer the wonder.
I am just here wanting to feel good.
In happiness for the now and in happiness for the tomorrow.






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