I’ve grown weary of all the bickering;
So many voices demanding their say.
Though human spirit may be flickering,
The flame of freedom is fading away.
Creative vision was once a blessing,
To view our world a fresh, different way.
Now a writer must always be guessing:
Will he be judged offensive or risque?
If you speak, or write, or draw with your heart,
And have the clear convictions of your soul;
Though a misanthrope may tear it apart,
You have met the clear purpose of your goal.
For once a truth is revealed to us all,
It has a spirit they cannot recall.
I write for an audience of one, but I share just in case another may want to build on my thought.