In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine. Ralph Waldo Emerson

~THE FRINGE PEOPLE~


Who are these people who live on the edge?
Round pegs in square holes that refuse to be wedged
March to their own drummer, that pounds in their heads
Eyes closed to the skies as they soar straight ahead

The artists, the poets, musicians, and dreamers
The writers, the sculptors, creative believers
They exist in the world, while they thrive on the fringe
Where their hearts bound and leap, and creation begins

As different as oil and vinegar are
As near as your sibling, yet far as the stars
Their numbers are legion, their manner oblique
Unique in their style, and creative techniques

Touched by a fire to escape and create
While the day to day tasks in life have to wait
Their focus is captured in intimate dimensions
Don't dare to intrude, its beyond comprehension!!

Their talent a gift, on loan in this life
A sharing of spirit, beyond this earth's strife
A link universal, this nexus for man
Given thru eons, throughout every land

Maybe the answers lie in their ways
To find in creation an ascension day
Leaving a legacy for this earth and our times
Thru  art.... towards heaven...humanity climbs