Has no one simple answer.
I keep on painting, hoping to create
Something beautiful, of which I can be proud,
And with each one, when it’s done
I feel, “Ah, this one; yes!”
But later I come back and judge its flaws
Thinking it does not deserve recognition —
Then, later still, with some,
I return and see magnificence,
And wonder if I’ll ever paint that well again:
A never ending cycle
Of struggle, pride, embarrassment,
Paint-overs and frustration,
Marked with occasional and intermittent joy...
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