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The birth of the artist
by Martin Friel




There’s this guy
Who lives online
A remote
Benevolent man


A purist
Who does it for the love
The fun
And the whimsy of it all


He is a man who perseveres
In the face of the apparent pointlessness


Because it matters to him
To us
And to the spirit of writing


He lifts them
Those quiet writers
Who think they’ll never be heard
Nurturing hope that someone is listening
To prove that they once lived


He gives them hope
By accepting
And telling them “I like this!”


What he does is quiet
And often unheard


But he does it all the same
Because the principle matters to him
He understands our needs
Feeds that deep want
And keeps that little bit of hope alive


He gave me a mop once
And I cleaned the dirt and cobwebs from my window
With a smile on my face


Because that mop told me I’d made it
And that my hope
Wasn’t completely misplaced



a line, (a blue one)


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