You aren't that genius

You aren't that genius-
One with scrawly handwriting,
With an inept deducing glace,
To be born on a special day.

You aren't that genius-
Struck by sudden thought,
Ignoring and leaping over logic,
Convention with primordial moratorium.

You aren't that genius-
Who can paint beauty,
Rendering words obsolete,
Daring to throw colours in the dark.

You aren't that genius-
Who can compose
Inordinate sounds to
Pose divinity into a note.

You aren't that genius-
Who can bend time to a sum;
Bring together the unseen
To a scrawl on a rough paper.

You aren't that genius;
You aren't what you want to be,
You aren't what you suppose,
You aren't anachronistic or an iconoclast.

You aren't that genius,
Which the papers would talk about,
Which galleries will present;
To have a statue at Tussaud's.

You aren't that genius,
Your mother wished you to be,
Your friends wished you weren't,
You thought you are.

You aren't that genius,
You are just another writer,
Yet another painter,
With a different signature.

You aren't that genius,
You aren't a talisman to this era,
Or a zeitgeist among diffident opprobrium.
You aren't a maverick.

You aren't that genius,
You exist on the breaches of a party,
Smuggling petty thoughts to
Write, Draw, Carve and Delight.

You aren't that genius,
You merely exist, sometimes live,
And one day shall be buried or burnt,
Without much going amiss.

The Light Shines The Brightest