is there an option?

There is a need to create, to procreate, to make a mark, to build, to add one's personal touch, to be seen; ultimately to create is to break through from existing into a place of being, of finally being born, reborn, resurrected, or finally waking up. The Assassination of Frederico Garcia Lorca a poem by Nikolai von Keller Lorca lies beneath the bones of the mud, with lead in his belly and stones in his fists. The young soldier who pulled the trigger radiates ideals and says: Art for art's sake is to die just as born - without reason. Ashes of the poets slink into the corners of Spain: the mountains of the South, ivory and sloped as a mistress in repose. the Mediterranean, blue as the word. Garcia Lorca is not afraid. He has already done what he came to do. He has already been born. This was one of the poems I found to read this morning on my radio show. Another one, poem #26 by Eugenio de Andrade and translated by Alexis Levitin: #26 But how to make it last to the final moment, this mouth, this sun? One must love it, lofty and patient, where the flame chants. Love it. Till the end. Till it turns to dance. We are called to create, it is the mark of God within our being. It is the power or drive that launches us from the instinctive drives to survive into the place of ego where we leave our mark and humanity of limitations and then beyond to the orbit of a larger stillness where the oneness of life is complete and our creating art is always and always being let free.