*Illustration reference:
Francisco Rabal as the painter,
Francisco Goya
When tip to surface moves with ease
Without the aim to suit or please
None but the artist’s own mind’s eye
Shall judge if this be “slouch” or “try”
But even that should matter little
It takes more than some grease and spittle
To work those gears of pure creation
That spans scale from pain to elation
Just mere presumption of a gift
You’re led to think you’ve pulled a grift
You’re paralyzed by expectation
Afraid to rise above your station
Conundrum of the artist’s post
Be confident, yet do not boast
When pride is what compels the act
With hammer raised, first chiseled crack
Is often where the start will end
Too fearful that it’s all pretend
I beg you all, do not give in
To dampen drive is grave as sin
Instead indulge that seared compulsion
Let engine’s fire with jet propulsion
So everything you make will shine
Thrive or fail, you’ll still be fine
Don’t ever doubt this life we live
The world will take all that we give
Consumes it fast as we can make it
If that’s my role, I’ll gladly take it!