It's unbefitting to be famous
And say fame elevates our souls;
It's unbefitting to trouble over
Your notes and manuscripts and rolls.
The way of art is self-surrender,
Not born of praise or great success.
How shameful when your name's a byword;
Your labor-vain and meaningless!
Oh, live! Not as pretenders live-
In emptiness, with many fears,
But give your heart to vast horizons
And hear the call of future years.
Censor the contents of your books,
Not your destiny. Deliberate
And mark the matter lying near
Your vital themes of life and fate.
Then pass into your deep seclusion,
A man alone and unespied,
As vanishes in evening mist
And sudden dark the countryside.
Another, step by step, will follow
After, and enter your retreat,
But you yourself must not prefer
your victories to your defeat.
You must never violate your purpose
One jot, one atom, to survive.
But be alive-this only matters,
Alive, to the end of ends alive!
Carson and I hit the local library this week. I have a stack of new books to read and after digging through one of the poetry books, I found the above.
It felt inspiring!
I have some new projects I'm working on. I am excited and nervous to see what I am capable of. More details to come.......