Work In Progress

I painted a picture

of dreams and peace,

stood back and jumped into it

and tried to fit into it with ease.

though beautiful as one could hope,

it turns out I didn't plan my strokes very carefully;

I have filled my head with expectations of an artificial reality.

I am not picture perfect-

I could never hope to be-

and this life that I have envisioned tests the limits of the art that is me.

now I know that my painting was merely a fantasy;

I am an artwork in progress

and may never be complete,

but I will always be growing, nevertheless.

I color my work with each decision I make,

with each breath and with each step that I take.

water-colored tears and pastel laughter bleed onto the page,

a new stroke for each turn my life may take.

the world is ever-changing, beautifully abstract.

and after all it is quite the masterpiece;

maybe when all is said and done, I'll stand back,

and see that I've created a work of inner peace.