What Price Creativity?

My heart beats passionately.
My mind thinks creatively.
My soul cries desperately.

I am an individual undreamed of.
I will not comprise.
I will not bleat with herded sheep.

Truth Honour Justice Disguised?
For these three I stand alone.
For these three I walk alone.
These three I aspire to distinctly own.

Wisdom Knowledge Worked Of Past Ages.
As I merge ancient celestial wisdom.
As I sweep across unknown ages.
As I walk worlds apart from material wealth.

In a capitalistic world I moan.

What Price Creativity?
What market value?
Which market?

For what reason?
For what profit?

Why bother?

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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