Would you create
if you knew for a fact
audience wasn’t even a concept,
let alone the definitive necessity?
You wouldn’t.
Because what you parade as art
is nothing but circus.
Take away the crowd
and you are exactly what you fear.
Alone,
with no mask to hide behind,
no applause to drown your silence.
You mistake reflection for vision,
mirrors for meaning.
Every gesture is a plea,
every word a leash,
every creation a bribe
for someone else’s gaze.
But creation does not beg.
It does not perform.
It tears itself out of nothing,
erupts without witness,
burns without applause.
Stars explode into galaxies,
oceans carve mountains,
volcanoes paint the sky in fire
and none of them wait for an audience.
Take away the crowd
and your art vanishes.
Take away the illusion
and you are only hunger
dressed as charade.
But creation,
creation will riot in silence,
etch itself into the void,
outlive gods,
outlive you.
Audience is your religion.
Creation is the abyss
that swallows worship whole.
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