A Word . . . To The True Artist

You probably do not exist.

For the True Artist is virtually non-existent in this world.

It matters not either way.

 

It must be understood that in order for one’s Art to be True,

The human from which it arose

Must be True.

 

A false human

Can no sooner produce true art

Than an orange

Can produce grape juice.

 

It must be understood

That if you decide to release your Art into the world

It must be done with open eyes.

 

One whose eyes are open

Realizes some things.

 

In realizing them

He does not subject himself to suffering.

 

The thing that must be realized

Is that in releasing True Art into the world,

It is being released into a place

It does not belong.

 

For the semi-humans of the world

Are too blind and conditioned

To recognize it.

 

The critics are too self-important

To evaluate it.

 

The world

Is a landfill.

 

The people of the world

Are filler.

 

If one seeks admiration

Applause

Approval

Or validation

From the people of the world,

His eyes are not open.

 

Thus his Art

Can only bring him suffering.

 

One may do whatever he so wishes.

But if he seeks not to suffer

His eyes must be open.

 

An Art that is pure

Needs not the approval of the world.

 

For the world

Is not fit to judge it.

Or worthy of receiving it.

 

You may reveal small pieces,

But much of one’s True Art

Is best kept to oneself.

 

Locked and hidden

From those who have not the eyes for it.

 

True Art

As Truth itself . . .

Is Priceless.

 

To share it all

To reveal it all

To the soiled hands of the world

And the blind humans of the world

Is to Destroy its Purity.

 

It is far more Pure

To starve

And to die cold and wet on the pavement

Than to give Truth

Or True Art

To the people of the world.

 

One may live destitute

And battered . . .

 

But his heart will be satiated

And his spirit fulfilled

By having kept his Art

Wholly Preserved.

 

Namaste.