What if there was a canvas  
that was finished.  
And what if the artist of that canvas
showed it to a viewer.
“Wow,” the viewer might say.  “That’s stunning.”
“Thank you…that really means a lot,” the artist might humbly respond.

Turning to the piece, however, he shares a chuckling, questioning, coveting of sorts. “How can he call you stunning, having viewed you only so briefly?  And with such brief understanding, relative to what we’ve shared?”  

“What if though,” the canvas replied, “he could actually see something stunning, despite limited perspective of our whole?”  
What if stunning could be found in a color, curve, or even corner of us—versus seeing the whole of our final masterpiece?”

What if part was enough to stun today?
What if stunning was enough to fully realize part?

What if there was a canvas
that was finished.
And the artist could see the stunning whole, but the viewer could only see part.
And yet what if that part could be called stunning
and in many ways
whole.

“What if,” said the artist to the viewer.