The Sober Guy

In the heart of the artist, a fire burns bright  
Fueled by passion and the will to create  
But when the world fails to see the light  
The pain of unsold art is hard to mitigate

Like a tree that bears no fruit  
The artist feels the emptiness and hollowness  
For art is not a means to earn, but a pursuit  
Yet it's hard to ignore the material success

But as Rumi says,  
"The wound is the place where the light enters you"  
Perhaps in this pain, lies a deeper truth  
For the artist, it's not fame or wealth  
But the joy of creation that holds the proof

So let the artist create, with an open heart  
For the beauty of art, will never depart  
It will find its way to the right eyes  
And the artist will be forever immortalized.