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.