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.
