The Artist

What is the essence of this demiurge?

When inspiration strikes, he enters a trance.
He no longer needs to sleep or eat. 
He can create until exhaustion
with damaged fingers and pale skin,

Each of his works contains a fragment of his soul.
What is the essence of this demiurge?
He, who transforms raw materials,
who externalises objects from his cortex.

For some, 
there remains a deep sorrow.
The cursed kings;
those who have been denied paradise.

For others, 
a bland happiness, 
the fruit of carelessness and opulence.

But let’s be honest, 
the artifices of escape,
the use of substances, 
often corrupts the exodus.

A false, salty redemption,
becoming actors in their own misfortune.
I speak of the misunderstood, 
of these settlers from another world.

Those who possess a truth 
clear only to their own eyes.
Those taken for mad, 
simply for the inability to think as others do.