Nobody asked but …
I don’t think you have time to waste not writing
because you are afraid you won’t be good at it.
― Anne Lamott, from Bird by Bird
I recognize writing of human communication as the apex of
originating and transmitting ideas
noting the incredible filligree of life
terrorizing the groundlings with the possibilities,
taming then the minds by observing the beauties
Heaven’s gates are opened,
illustrating the wonders,
You are lifting the discourse
over the Milky Way and
under the seas of the Universe
having eventually to let go,
avenging the slights
victory over banality,
every thing must be left on the playing ground,
the need to connect calls
in all times of your affect
mastering your contribution to the memorium
every morsel you can add to the feast
trading places in posterity,
Who are you to decide what will be remembered
assessing your place in history
seeing how things will be.
Testing the flexibility of the future
evading facts to be,
never looking at the likelihoods
of not slipping through the boards
to molder in the dust among the stars.
Why should we write or otherwise be a wordmonger?
Reality sets in.
Ideally you can be lauded thoughout the Emperion,
taking a place of honor above Shakespeare or Lao Tsu
Instead, astronomically unlikely.
Never coming to light,
getting overlooked in the parade,
being a speck of stardust
except unique nevertheless,
celebrated by no one but essential to every other speck,
as you contributed to the lingua franca of it all.
seals your fate
even if you were a crib death or an Octogenerian.
You left a lingualist microscopic mark
or erected a masterpiece which will bear a label
under its magnificence, but you
are in fear of being forgotten.
Relax and rest easy.
Everybody’s memory will expire soon,
as much as we may wish otherwise.
Responsibility dissolves in eternity,
and dissipates in cosmic winds.
I see that to we humans it is temporary.
Do tardigrades see our travails?
Youth falls before the force of time,
only our most minute motions will persevere.
untold the story will remain unreadable.
Who will carry on?
Only no one.
The dictates of physics guarantee that
bygones will exact accuracy
granting to each moment a certainty
outstanding in its place, but
doing well at its connectedness.
actually preserving truth for which there can be no substitute,
— Kilgore Forelle