when michelangelo sculpted david, he carved correctness.
not a vein out of place, a loose curl on a stony head.
it seems our greatest fear
is not taking ourselves seriously. there are those who hate
modern art for what it is--imperfection captured on canvases,
portraits of humanity too large to fit in tight boxes--
but art has always been for truth, and tidy realism
is a lie. it seems our greatest flaw
is wanting to be better than we are, to look in a mirror
and always love what you see.
when michelangelo painted the sistine chapel,
he made almost perfection.
hundreds of years later we will herald him as a master
and still point out his flaws. maybe if one day
david crumbles and the sistine chapel falls,
we will not remember stony perfection
but two hands, almost touching,
gloriously never enough.