Adventures in Lemnos, Pt. 1

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It's hard to have a layman
Truly understand the craft
Like having an ant tell giraffe
What it's like in the grass
Likely one reason that many artists turn to drinking
'Cause they're use to feeling liquid
As they're drowning while they're sinking
I welcome all trains of thought
And all the different views
'Cause I believe what I am saying
So why would I then seclude
If you truly kindle fire
Why would you just preach to choir
I do all your vim admire
But don't shut down while it's dire
Hold
My hand in this bitter rain
I know it's cold
But don't let your ardor wane
Don't want an echo chamber
It's a double-edgèd sword putting both entities in danger
And stop pretending people will develop your reasoning
If you stop associating
Expecting them to find their way while they're wandering
I asked Atlas how he takes the weight
And questioned if pain dissipates
He told me I'll be served a plate
But to shatter it 'cause food'll never sate
Many tell me never bite off more than I could chew
But inside I feel so fain to choke upon what I so choose
An artist abides in the land where discomfort resides
What I mean is every single piece is like a snowflake
Predicated on a speck of dust, in this case yearning
An inner burning to speak or write it into ether
And at the far end of the craft you make for pantheon's discerning
Doesn't matter if your work is sad or happy
If you couldn't create and put into ether you'd be lost like Lassie
Looking for your owner while your soul is feeling hungry
Bleed, for this craft
I must lead
It takes so much to feed
Me, I'm a different breed
Seasons changing
Yes, I know
Fallen leaves
Then winter snow
Sadness ranging
Far and near
Highest jumper's
Wounded deer
Sister, darling, can't you see
My blood path's cut out for me
Ere, at night, I fall to sleep
I pray my Ma won't for me weep
I spend all my days, looking around
Pondering theories, discovering sound
Developing ken it's like blood to a hound
Man, my life is like a merry-go-round
Somebody give me a bandage
I am running up a sand ridge
Trying to gain a vantage
With no limbs to grant advantage
I'm bruising myself on the way up
And then I go dip myself in some hot syrup
And after that I lick my wounds
After that I write my runes
Drowning in vices but swimming in boons
If my life's, the investment
Then my craft, is the dividends
A menacing medicine
But it's so riveting like it is Ritalin
Finding deliverance midst the maleficence
Not an easy process
If you are searching for aught of significance
Must prepare for the marshes
I'm not one for the diffidence
I'm more one for the confidence
Look to my life for the evidence
Saying what I must when there's relevance
Many are bound by their own heart's reticence
Getting the money and running away
Grabbing the pot and then throwing the clay
Never the option
Guided by passion
Give me the pen and I'm ready for action
Don't cry
Oh my
All my
Sins have come my way
And they seek my flesh to flay
I could sing away the day
But I know they're here to stay
I've engaged in discourse
With sages of old
You would likely have remorse
Hearing what's told
I've seen mountaintops
From the valleys below
Whilst all sunshine stops
And the darkness does grow

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