Poem: The Beauty of Stumbling

The Beauty of Stumbling

A certain stroke.
Fail.
Again, tilting your hand just a bit.
Not quite there.
Again. And yet again.

A mix of colors.
Fail.
Again, just a bit more pressure,
a bit less,
Now quite there.
And so again. And so yet again.

Practice.
There’s no glamour in it,
but no one sees the mistakes.
For you, it is part of the fun,
finally.
It has taken years to get to this point,
willing to fail, and fail again,
getting there, where ever there may be,
when you finally stumble on it.

Practice. Work. Practice.
Talent made whole
in as unromantic a method as possible,
But damn it,
it works.

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