Of all my creations,
One of them is a masterpiece
That is not ready for display.
The protocol preceding presentation is a long one.
Stages that require rigorous transformations
Last for weeks at a time
With slow development.
Meticulous monitoring makes for a merry manifestation.
More so in early stages,
For they are the foundation on which blocks are built.
With structure comes sacrifice of sleep
And sometimes sanity.
Stress sometimes
Stepping in the way of steady thought.
Consequences of collaborative cogitation
Occasionally cause continuous spells of crying.
Uphill may be the battle that I find in front of me,
But at least I can rely on my equal.
My muse.
My partner.
My lover.
The co-author of our creative endeavor.
Our odds of success are obscure,
But only optimism will obliterate the demons
That are doubt, despair, and debilitating bouts of depression.
We shall succeed in areas
That our predecessors have yet to master.
We shall attempt to alleviate our ailments
And treat the lesions left upon our anorexic egos.
All unnecessary excrement shall exit itself
From the execution of the finished work of art
So that it may develop wings.
Maybe that metaphor is misused.
Yes, yes it is indeed inappropriate.
It would be more accurate to say
That it will have arms.
As well as legs.
A head.
A heart.
A spine.
A mind and a soul.
Even genitalia.
Our finished piece will soon walk.
Talk.
Eat.
Sleep.
All on its own.
That is, after it paves the road by crawling.
Our creation is a human life.
It is a life currently under construction.
It is a life
Possessing definition as diverse as God would intend it.
It is a life that we will most definitely nurture.
It is a life that we will love
With every fiber of our beings.
Whether our child be titled Ethan or Anya,
The first words I shall exclaim shall be:
"Welcome to our lives, my child.
Welcome to the world."

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