Must it Be?

Must it be…

That the artist remains invisible to those with no preference?
Are the mirrors not reflective of all that passes before them?
And is there not a virtual vortex of creative energy
abounding ceaselessly before all such reflective surfaces?

Must it be…

That consciousness remains asleep in those of pedestrian desire?
Is not the polished silver for destiny's feast but refractive reminders
available to all who will but remove the shades of fear
and look beyond the mirrors of isolated denial?

Must it be…

Gluttonous appetites for empty foods of complacency
always create more mirrors for the ethereal bliss of colorless-ignorance?
When will the palate of taste be embraced as but a variation of life's palette,
allowing the brush strokes of endless rainbows to bathe and feed the starvation

of all originally born of endless imagination and willing to risk expression?

Must it be?

Such is the other gift...

choice.