Flower in the Field

If you believe it to be you

You must fight to make it true

For, if you have a love for it, it’s lord and master

To cast it out or kill it is to unwisely court disaster

For even if unrecognized by the remaining whole of humanity

If it enlivens your heart and stokes the romanticism of your mind

It’s of more divinely-sanctioned truth than anything so stamped by authority

Its value is not to be found in its financial remuneration

But in the wealth accrued within the Spirit and impassioned intellect

Its successes aren’t made of social media likes and the hails of critics

But by whether or not it touches that which their tributes can never touch

Its appeals aren’t made to marketability, profitability and public validation

But to the Gods of Truth and Beauty in whose temples its offerings are made

For it matters not if you’ve cultivated an entire field of economic yield

If the one esteemed flower therein perishes from uncultivated neglected

It matters not if the popular patrons pass it by, entirely blind to its beauty

It matters if those gifted with beholding eyes are born with eyes to see

So keep returning to the temple, holding the dreamer’s torch up high

Pass through the forests of reality’s renouncements, ever looking lost

Ascend towards the sanctified summit that the cowards cannot climb

The only path peaking at the point where the clouds of heaven part