Where is the time for art?

There are dinners to attend

and weddings that we cannot miss

There's birthdays and anniversaries

work appointments we can't dismiss.

There are friends to meet

who have been out of orbit for a while

family members to catch up with

who, if we don't, will turn hostile.

There's detergent pods and dishwashing

all those plants to take care of today,

the shower curtains are getting moldy,

and we do need food just so we don't faint.

There is no time for art.

Maybe Wednesday is a good day

to sit back and dive into our craft

but the body needs sleep,

normal functioning isn't on the cards.

How about Friday?

Does that work?

Sure, why not?

but let's wait

till the day comes along

in case our hips feel tight

and we need to switch activities

that loosen us up.

There's always something, isn't it?

We need to and should make time for art.

Accolades

striving, exerting, fine-tuning

ourselves everyday

just to hear that applause

that can fill up the void that we built for ourselves over the years,

for that moment when we would finally feel fulfilled

and be who we were always meant to be.

but once the accolades come to us

they are nothing but the past the next day-

intangible, immoveable.

and we are back to square one- yearning for it again.

we do have a choice.

Tundra

I am almost tundra. vast, innominate and a danger to anyone who walks around me

I am a secret that no fire will reveal. You have tried to teach me lessons and bend me to your ways but I am not built to yield. I am built to admonish life. I watch the sun silent and lifeless, my only friend. I am the beginning and end of everything and only I know what the journey cost. And I stay still as I watch you all beyond the empyrean splendor, stocked in mirth, blood, woe but you're merely dust.