An artist’s job is never done
until every nerve in his body
has gone completely numb
from thorough self-investigation,
expressions of the lovelorn heart
that never get their dues in life.

‘Tis the strife within a man
that overpowers him,
a wretchèd brokenness
that drives his feeble attempts
at total self-excavation.

What propels him from obscurity
to the agony of anguished attention,
which lingers as feelings locked away,
unforgiven, taboo, forbidden?

Only sadness, sorrow unfulfilled
by differences not meant for conformity,
just the enormity of avant-garde
anti-normality.

What safeguards a creative mind
from his own efforts
to make something beautiful
of his suffering?

Just a simple opportunity.

Just the opportunity
to reciprocate the emotions
that were not originally there,
the ones masked by pain and denial
that had been created from isolation
all the while
his creative style
had emerged like a phoenix from the blaze
of anger, shame, humiliation, failure,
and the other methods behind creators’
mysterious cognitive ways.

But he will most likely be ignored
by those who needed his creations the most.
For who knows abandonment more
than the greatest artist of them all,
The Lord of Hosts?

It must be known that the suffering of separation
is endless as eternity itself,
but it is better to endure this way
alongside the Creator
than to become one with the world
apart from Him.

A writer’s job is never done.
‘Tis the strife within him
that propels him from obscurity
and wretchèd brokenness
against feelings locked away,
unforgiven, taboo, forbidden.
What safeguards an artist
from his own efforts
is just a simple opportunity
to reciprocate the emotions
that were not originally there.

Though the creator will most likely be ignored
by those who needed his creations most,
he can empathize with the Creator
and pursue Him with a loving heart;
therefore suffering from separation alongside God
instead of suffering an eternity apart from Him.

This is the joy of sadness, sorrows fulfilled
by differences meant for non-conformity,
the enormity of avant-garde, nuanced anti-normality.

For art is art, and art is free!

Published by Andrew Blitman

Andrew Blitman is a poet and artist who is also the webmaster of this blog. He is the published author of 13 books, including "Birthright 2012: A Voyage into the Heart and Soul of Israel" and the "Wild Writers" Series. He can be reached at this e-mail address: andrew.blitman@gmail.com View all posts by Andrew Blitman