Arts.
Blankets of beauty to be
Consumed by all, yet,
Doomed to fall.
Enshrouding the broken and unspoken
Founders: The artists, the actors, the authors.
God's messengers and the Devil's passengers,
Hidden by Hannya
In broad daylight
Juxtaposing what is right. For you see,
Knowledge and talent and
Labour of love,
Mean naught for any guarantee.
No name, nor fame, not within a game against
Opponents in the pockets of those in
Power. You are left to
Question your worth and right to continue
Returning to this fight, when all around you, all you
See are the young and
Talented carefree hoarding accolade after accolade whilst here,
Uncapturable little old me works and fights and slaves away in
Vein, unable to obtain anything to my name, and really, is it
Worth the pain when there's little to no monetary gain? - In defiance,
Xenial words with venial truths whisper in my ear:
Yes. Your work is worth the fight. Be it brush, script or pen, the arts will always be - your
Zen.
About the Creator
Megan Kingsbury
Author 📝Actress 🎭 and Film Director 📽️ by day
Animation 🎬 fanatic by night
Cosplayer 🖌️🪡 all the way in between
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More stories from Megan Kingsbury and writers in Poets and other communities.
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
You are so talented!! Thank you for sharing!! ❤️
I LOVE this. It gives me drive to get back into creating art 🎨
And that is why they are worth it.