If to become a high minded, well respected
adult is to abandon the divine ideal
of universal kinship and good will in order to
maintain personal security,
I'll spend the entirety of my life
an irresponsible child of ignorance.
I'll run barefoot through the woods,
ignoring dinner bells,
oblivious to the darkening curfew hour of the street lamps
If profit and sales determine the merit of an artist
I shall forever define myself as dilettante
a dabbler, a hobbyist.
an amateur doing what he loves
in order to maintain personal sanity
After all, the purpose of an artist isn't
influence or profit,
it isn't to strike admiration or awe.
the aim isn't avant garde expression of emotion
or presenting a revolutionary idea that will change the world.
Art is simple encouragement,
no more than a smile,
to live out the ideals we all carry and know
in the most sure fire depths of our hearts to be true.
The ideals we forget lose abandon or are just too
afraid to act upon in life.
The ideals of 'the weak the senseless the naïve the eccentric
the quixotic the queer the fairy dusted bullshit'.
– its all just maya anyway
– were else can one live out ideals if not in dream?