read consistently, learn diligently, and write profusely
so that beyond lifetimes of persistent practice produced from painful, arthritis-stricken fingers may you birth a humble book
in its eternal years, as many mute manuscripts, it shall collect continents of dust until it finally bares relevance due by your unfortunate final, unheard breaths.
but near such justly demise, you will rage and reach forth, to hope an innocent youth may learn the many mistakes collected and condensed from one life to years to weeks, summarized by your trembling hands.
yet I fear, as you may too, that as we fade from existence, our voice echoes lost; our words unread forever, to exist untouched as a decorative piece on a pretentious bookshelf.