i was almost an abortion

Saturday, January 26, 2013

portrait of an artist

hen you are born with a gift,
you are considered "chosen".
some of the chosen ones grow, blossom and bloom spectacularly 
like wildflowers in a field.
they lift and encourages the spirits of everything around them with their fragrant petals and magnificent colors. and you would think that they were the lucky ones for being chosen...
think again.

the chosen are also the tortured.
their souls are exposed.
their hearts are torn open and bruised by the pain that they inevitably always feel.
for they know that they are usually misunderstood,
they are aware that they are considered strange, odd, or unlike the rest.
they are celebrated for their talent,
and then shunned when they move in a different direction,
which, is really, just growth.
they must create to feel useful,
they most times cannot think in a box,
so they are a lot of times outcasts who try,
but to trying isn't what naturally comes to them.
to try is to fail,
because when you are chosen,
it comes from so deep down within,
that it just exudes and flows freely.

the chosen are chosen to move society to a higher place.
to step forward and climb up,
to lift and rejoice and make the world a better place...
but the cost they must pay on their souls is immense,
and so they torture themselves and sometimes,
they burn out too fast.
never reaching their full potential.
never understanding just "why?"
never having the peace of the unchosen,
who just never seem to care, either way.

if they never imagined something better,
if they never envisioned a magnificent thing could be,
then they are satisfied with the ordinary,
and don't ever see the potential of what could ever be.