The writer’s burden is never lifted It is only shared, perverse pleasure in pain The crafting of voices The setting of a scene The details of the stage All within the writer’s hand.
To be musewhipped is both A curse and a blessing Worlds are created, stories shared Midnight oil burns, sleep sacrificed Who says we suffer not for our arts? To be musewhipped is painful indeed.
An artist doesn’t stop till the canvas is filled A writer doesn’t stop till the story is told Yet who has the harder task? The artist has an easier burden, I say For the writer is never satisfied Till the voice is captured as it was meant to be.
The artist’s medium is many The writer’s is but one But until we master that one No other tools may we touch