When I read, what my whiteboard showed

I looked at my whiteboard, pitied its condition and took up the task of cleaning it. Easier said than done, for I could not rub off the written text completely and easily.

That got me thinking, what does it take to restore back the clean slate

On my whiteboard
A lot I wrote
Then wiping it clean,
Making it plain
For scribbling on it
again and again

With time,
Stubborn got my writing
Refusing to leave its trace
Even when erased
Continued to occupy the surface

Duster amassed layers of ink
Which once upon a time
Had expressed what I think
Even when empty
Even when idle
I could see
The board and the duster
Reflected me

If it has to be me
Why not evolved?
Why not transformed?
You are what you think
You are what you create
And you need a clean duster
To start with a clean slate