Here I sit plucking away at my bass,
eyes heavy with focus and exhaustion.

Reverence guides my fingers
across the fretboard as they wander through the
maze of murals and their variations.

For all of its nourishment and influence,
I realize,
history is the greatest oppressor of creativity,

trapping me in this labyrinth
with only the ways of old to lead me out.


About optimistthepessimist

Always in transit.
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