Stop waiting to see
No one watches
At least not for long
Looking in mirrors of their own
image courtesy of Black Country Museums
Vanity is tricky. I loathe it yet, as an artist, it is the fuel that stokes the flames of self-relection which, in turn, morph into paintings and poems and songs and Frank Gehry’s Bilbao Guggenheim.
Vanity’s blade cuts deep. Festering self-absorption and neediness.
My children salved my wounds. And proved to me that my needs were no longer paramount. That fame was an illusion. That validation from the outside world did not make me better.
Helping another be better made me better.
Vanity is tragedy
A fight we pick with ourselves
Yet a worthy foe
Till the brawl ends