Terrified of being irrelevant,

the artist sits back in his chair

and grunts. Too far, too far,

he moans, frustrated that

the gas in his car will only

take him to the edge of town,

when he oh so badly wants

to go to the moon.

Terrified of becoming irrelevant,

the artist picks up where others

leave off, builds and then dies.

But let us all be clear, the artist

yearns to not only go to the moon,

but to take Planet Earth with him

in his pocket, because

relevancy is everything.

The fire in his soul screams otherwise.

The artist dies before he dies and

then, only then, reaches immortality.