An Artist Undone (Poem)

An Artist Undone

I am jealous--
Not of you,
But of the hours that hold you close,
Of the days that wake beneath your gaze,
Of the quiet air that learns the rhythm of your breath.
I am jealous of those graced by your light,
While I remain in shadows,
Reaching only for the echo of your touch.
I will never create an art as beautiful as you.
With all the talent the heavens could bestow,
With all the muses whispering in my ear,
What could rival your eyes--
The shade even the heavens forgot to paint?
What song could capture your gaze--
A melody too delicate for mortal strings?
I am not sad because you are beautiful,
But because I did not shape you,
Because your beauty was born beyond my reach.
If I could mold you from clay,
If I could carve you from the stars,
I would destroy every work I've ever made--
Every canvas, every note--
To ensure you would stand alone.
I wish I could lock your canvas away,
Shield it from fleeting, careless eyes.
Let no one admire as they please,
For none will see you as I do.
You are the muse I cannot claim,
The miracle I cannot own.
I am an artist undone by you--
Ruined, yet remade,
In the quiet agony of knowing
Someone as beautiful as you.