The Poet’s Sin
To create is to destroy,
to bring about the death
of that which you give life.
From the moment
of their utterance
words begin to fade,
waiting to be forgotten,
misused, misplaced,
and in time are only
as the passing of the wind.
This is the artist’s curse –
to destroy that which we love
in the act of its creation,
to condemn it to death
through an act of love.
And thus, in the doing,
we bleed, we die,
for what we give the world.
And I die in what I have made.
The Sanctuary of the Storm 
Wow, pretty powerful. My thoughts exactly. You are on a streak, Man!
There is finality to all conceptions.
But is it not better to conceive a creation so that it knows the joys of life and fruition?
Or, another perspective: If we build something, then we have the prerogrative to also take it down. Sometimes that is a postive thing.
But, nonetheless, it is possible to build something and it lives on after WE are gone…and that too is worth our work.
it is not the artist who destroys the fading words but the minds of others. The writer can perpetuate the memory by refilling the images or concepts so that they continue to live.
Life is a garden that must be continuously watered ~