True Art in Written Form

True art in written form is never just
A tale of life recounted blow by blow,
The tensions caused by violence or lust;
It is instead a distillate of flow,
The boiled-down essence of experience,
Life’s repetitious rounds, its ennui,
Its boredom, mud, its sand, its transience
Transmuted into points of density—
Achieved by shaping time’s own rigid frame,
Annihilating it when it holds naught,
Expanding it when spirit’s brilliant flame
Grows hot and something real is sometimes wrought.
True, high art will rise above illusion;
It portrays the spirit in its fusion.