My Art

My home is here -
A place of self -
It holds the truth:
No faun, no elf.

Deception is not in its cant,
'Though stories told reveal the truth -
The stories of a world unknown,
That is, my home, within its chant.

But sometimes home must fall away,
And truths must take a break from day.
The emprise of my life will take
A thousand years - but not too late.

My stage awaits, my music sounds
Upon the world: the urbs, the towns.
I yield emotion to the streets;
Reveal my soul and all its feats.

But not just feats must I reveal,
Mistakes and pains they must, must feel.
For in my pains there lies my heart,
and that, dear friends, is called my art.

-Phil