"Choice"

A Poem by masqued_muse

Do we as driven artists, even have one?

Elite of whirling cosmos,
            speaks out of the void.
          Language; merging unknown tongue,
            with urging Grand Design.
          Initiating this osmosis;
            I, slightly annoyed.
          Yet; slated to be welcome,
            in the incessant fire.

          From whence is this appearing,
            the scribe's tormented flame?
          Consuming all my alibis
            deletion of comic scheme.
          To resonate the searing,
            while angels sing my name.
          Adrift in space; this reason dies,
            alive in hallowed dream.

          Sealing the barren womb;
            with loving scar of Cain.
          Shakespeare's albatross
            waits for curtain call.
          Still as an empty tomb,
            redemption marries pain.
          Sacrifice this meager strife,
            or bear no life, at all.