Even from across the room
Violet crescent moons age her youthful face
Black makeup smudged under her eyelashes
And hair in a messy bun but still slightly curled
The only remnants of the night before
Evidence of a snoozed alarm and
Lack of sleep

Exhausted
Both mentally and physically
She tries desperately to grasp full consciousness
As she begins her work

Earbuds submerged in her ears
Leaving the world around her behind
Engulfing her into a world of art
Both visual and musical
Where sonnets become songs
And bars of notes start to form beauty

Eraser shavings everywhere
Either on the paper or pushed aside
Her hands move swiftly to the beat
For once just let me lose myself
And she does
In her art

She glances back and forth between papers
One a model and one her masterpiece
Not fully formed
Precision is key
Perfection
Ruler to ensure exactness
Eraser to rid of mistakes

She draws one line perfectly straight
And leans back
She contemplates and shakes her head
Then omits it
Goes back again to draw another
A twin to the first

The process is endless
Striving for impossible perfection
When true imperfect goodness is there

Underneath the frustration and complexity
Is simple and utter beauty
What is perfection
When you can have art?

*December 2013