There was always something missing.
God stretches out to touch Adam’s limp hand,
a reach that could save the world he once created
or let it fall and shatter to the ground.
Perfection seemed at hand, yet there lies a gap.
An endless chasm, but seems as wide as an inch.
Does the exhausted painter fix this or does the painting accepts the gap,
As this creation realizes its true self?
What do we see from this God like painting?
Our fault driven minds spirals towards the center;
Staring at the vertex of the artist’s frustration.
And yet we can doing nothing.
That gap was always there, for years and years to come.
But we constantly stare.
Is it our duty?
To finishes the artist’s work?
With a spark?
A gust of wind?
Or do we hope it will fill itself?
Has the creator abandoned his piece to fall down to earth.
To let it dry, rot and crumple away?
When will the ink that has been inscribed fade?
When will the colors disappear?
The cracks have already emerged, what is next?
Why does Adam not reach towards perfection?
I can tell you why.
He is looks outwards in despair, because he realizes.
When he looks beyond his frame he sees nothing that resembles perfection.