Creation is lonely…
a poem about finding ourselves in the void.
Is it selfish to want? Palms upturned to the sky, cover my eyes in exhaustion and despair. I clamber and claw, just trying to scale this impossible wall - is there even anyone on the other side? To create is lonely - beautiful, cathartic, revelatory, cavernous, dark, and futile. How many artists sit alone, churning out the passion and madness of their souls, only to be met with silence? Always more questions than answers, always an endless pursuit - chasing vapor trails through the darkness, clutching that one very tiny spark of hope in our chests. To create is lonely, but perhaps loneliness is necessary - maybe it’s in the void that we find ourselves.
