The Master Work

You can loose and make a fool yourself a million times, So long as you win in the end, No one cares What if I just push on till I’m making enough of content that I can do it my way My brain is unbelievably strong, it does the thing, it just moans on the way. It finds relief in expression. I have internalised my voice, I love to share it. I feel that this is me, my thought process and it’s my most valuable possession. I am choosing to share it because I know to someone it’s useful. I may not have it all figured out, but I have come from a worse place to where I am today. And I know there’s something in there. I have to come to terms with something, My present, My state today and the circumstances surrounding, In many ways I’m as strong as I’ve ever been, In others I am unbelievably weak and exposed, This is me. Experiencing an alt human experience. The variables surrounding my existence are highly unique to me, There’s something in that. In many ways I’m getting exactly what I was looking for, The challenge is matching the challenge with skill and preparation such that I can dance through obstacles as though they were props placed to make me look good. Given the circumstances I hold, The ones that made me, me. The ones that have kept me on the road, The ones that turned my mind into a gem, That have always known of the value I have, Yet needed more pressure to get stronger. Here we are, I have never felt like pressure like this, I have never juggled weights this heavy, And though it’s far from flawless, The weights are still in the air, We still moving, That’s crazy, When I look at myself, When I ignore comparison, I can see the accomplishment of my being, In a private way, A way that only I understand, To have lived my life, And to be going on, To still be looking to grow, I’m proud of myself. I think I’m a cool guy, Bit erratic still surely there’s a beauty in that, Surely the maddest of artists create the most indistinguishable of works, Maybe that’s my role in life, To use my days as strokes of paint that results in my life work, my master work. They could be more practical works, Better structured, But they will never be the madness of me, The beauty of Swae On Earth. A man who lived, Who felt it all, Pain, Confusion, Who’s heart ache could fill jugs, And who’s laughter could drink them empty, a man who’s looked in the mirror, And deeper into his soul, And said not good enough, And rebuilt himself, Time, After, Time. A man who believes that he has blessed so heavily that anything less than being the man he knows he can be is a failure. What I was given from life was arbitrary, What I do with it should be intentional, They must be a purpose behind what I do, Anything else is kin to crawling in a ball and praying harm not befall me.