You are not a driveway,

chalked up by a five year old neighbor

and washed away in a summer’s rain.

 

You are not a brick wall,

graffitied on by a young rebel

and restored by a disgruntled city official.

 

You are not a whiteboard,

erased of yesterday’s lesson

to make way for a new one.

 

You are marker on paper, oil on canvas

You are smudged and splattered,

with colors that bleed and lines that fade.

 

You are irreversible

You are everything you’ve ever been

and everything you will ever be.

 

You are the logic of the big picture

and the beauty in the details.

You are the drawing on the fridge,

the portrait on the wall,

the masterpiece in the museum.

 

You are the idea before them all,

the vision of what’s to come.

 

You are not the perfection of the blank slate

You are the wonder of a work of art.