But what happens
when what you do
cannot be erased?

You keep going.

And what happens
when you run
out of space?

You start again.

But what happens
when you tire?

You rest.

And what happens
when you die?

You smile.

And what happens
when all you make
is absolute ****?

You learn to love the losers
and embrace the imperfect
for its honesty.

Because I am 60 percent persistence
and 10 percent talent
leaving me a 70 percent artist
in a world of 110,
which is a constant state
of adequate
in a world of miraculous.

And I can try to convince myself
that the remaining 30 percent
isn't emptiness.

It's potential.