Death Knell

There is a death knell for the artist,

Can you hear it chiming?

Since I was a young boy, they’ve questioned our integrity.

They’ve asked of our assurance, of heaven;

Though in this life we can only be assured of,


They’ve questioned our morality,

Never to question their own disbelief.

There is a death knell for the artist.

It sounds in the distant hills!

As the white canvas remains unblemished,

So are the minds of the city. The artist fills your life with purpose, draws lines to worlds unseen, a thankless occupation; Filling the world with dreams.

A city filled with disbelief; unaided by men like me!

There is a death knell for the artist.

can you hear it chiming?

It sounds with a continuous winding,

The brightness is overtaking your cities!

There is a death knell for the artist.

Can you hear it chiming?

Destined to be forgotten,

Receiving no credit for his charity, he recaptures a life you’ve let slip, forever immortalized in the portrait, eternalized by your children, images set to revitalize your hearts graciously;

Be sure to thank the artist,

That dared to create for you a moment of brightness, of laughter, twirling in the dizziness of this world,

Upon your white canvas.

God blessed thee.

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