The Picture

I've painted you a picture

A mural complicated

Of a vast and odd adventure

Hopeful it's appreciated.

Before I show you I admit

The trepidation lingers

To release the canvas I'll submit

From my reluctant fingers.

For it's a mess of strokes

From hideous to sublime

The scattered imagery evokes

Bittersweetness every time.

It started as a modest work

Of varicolored nature

Brilliant tints bereft of murk

Splashed with joy upon the paper.

Once I knew though what commenced

I could not halt the session

The shades grew ever more intense

Now the art was what I questioned.

A complicated scene had dawned

Success and failure vacillated

Countless days and months passed on

As the grand work was created.

At times I labored for perfection

Alas a mottled mess ensued

Often I lacked a clear direction

Yet the richest tones imbued.

You know I had lovely intentions

For each portion of the piece

But got lost deep in dimensions

And lo, the artful flow did cease.

But then some spark would catalyze

An exquisite contribution

To help the portions synthesize

Giving this piece absolution.

Most recently and prior retire

The quality's progressed

Sweet strokes may pass the test of fire

Covering what once transgressed.

Surely opaque blots, a myriad

Nearly mar the whole

Yet just enough fine hues I had

To morph those blots to gold.

I know the time has come

The creation is complete

Is there a spot within your home

You'd consider it to meet?

At last the canvas I reveal

Oh please won't you elate?

I painted it in zeal

For you, my question cannot wait...

Is it beautiful?