A story perfectly told,
Without a flaw,
Without a gap.
The artist could only hope--
That her readers
Would see her soul.
Not a word wasted,
Precisely chosen words,
Chosen for a specific image...
Or maybe a sound.
But the fear remains
What if. The words
Bounce painfully around the artist's mind.
What if they hate it?
What if they miss the point,
The subtle humor,
Or even the witty repartee?
The artist is haunted,
Day and night as she labors,
Giving birth to her ultimate masterpiece
Blood, sweat, and tears;
Only to offer it up as a sacrifice
A lamb upon the alter.
A lamb led to the slaughter...
How poetic! But, the artist presses on
Polishing, tightening, preparing
Her work for the masses.
One harsh word can shatter it
Or one kind word boost it.
The artist knows,
It is a matter of time--
Soon the work will be fed to the wolves.
Will it be accepted or rejected?
Will her peers reward her hard work?
Or will it be another cruel moment?
The fate of the artist's sanity hangs in the balance.
But for now, the artist rests.
Closing her eyes and seeking her rest
Dreaming of another masterpiece
One that truly will be truly perfect
But, for now, the artist rests.
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