i am but a child myself...
one of many children
of the soil of this earth.

and with dirty fingernails
i've crawled this ground
into an upright walk
down a path i paved
for my future.

and with weakened knees
i've stumbled back down
into a clawing crawl
only to regain my strength
by looking back.

still i never lost sight
of what keeps me going onward.

past the heartaches,
past the upsets,
past the deaths,
and past the failures...

past the feeling there is nothing
in the promise of tomorrow...
there is, and will always be, my voice.

whether spoken or broken
into cryptic catch-phrases,
into hazes of hallucination
or lucid dream interpretations,
whether thought out or brought out
of my mouth in impulsive inspiration,
or in musical lyrics, or humourous hysterics,
or the stories i will pass on to our next generation...

you see, i have the responsibility
of every surviving writer,
to serve the people of this earth
with deliverance from darkness.
to be a seer of truth,
a light to illuminate,
to move in unison with society,
and not just assimilate.

humanity is the dynamic variable
in our cosmic equation.
literature is the expression
of this mutable creation.
therefore the writer holds the pen
in almost ceaseless contemplation.
and the voice of one provides the voice of many
by the intricacies of relation.

we artists need to find our courage
to take on such responsibility...
the strength to detox
from the solace of imagination,
and find only inspiration there
instead of a place to hide.

we artists need to find our purpose
in the construction of the collective mind...
not in the spread of depressions
with constant grievances of a failed world
or songs of hatred and frustration
without a shout-out to some hope.

artistic endeavor is only justified
in its development of society.

and it's a difficult path i follow,
a road of many struggles.
but i am not afraid of the pain of falling...
i will continue to rise and move forward with words...
because human intellect is awakened by struggle
and an artist must not fear failures.

the artist knows no boundaries...
whether separated by language,
or color, or religion, or miles...
the human race is an indivisible entity.

and the greatest impediment
in the collective progress of humanity
is the ignorance of the individual mind.

these are the minds our words must find.

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