Purple skies  
Crystal earth
This place smells like fresh dug dirt
A shallow pond stuck to dead oak leaves
Tracks that lead to deer ****
Muddy prints from a beat up bear
A nut hatch pirouettes on air
Rotting trunks offer homes to beetles
Who'll dine on entrails served with needles
A human footprint deep in the snow
They wear size 10 and are missing a toe
And where'd their other foot happen to go
The forest never tells

What if the best poem ever written has never been read
The best soliloquy in history never once said
What if the best song ever played had never been danced to
Simply because we weren't given the chance to
Save every draft and treasure your trash
One day they may be discerned from the ash
You could be the next Emily, I the next Poe
And like most famished artists
we'll never know

We witnessed cataclysmic events not take place, and instead accepted little increments of ****.
That's what life is.
Little increments of ****. Sometimes it's decent ****.
Most often it *****.
But it's always little ****, and it always adds up.