How sad the voice sounds when echoed back from emptiness. A validation that your words were not heard and instead clattered down the well of humanity hitting the walls on the way down. I pen a thought in the night so that I remember the deed with the coming sun. The blessed light does not erase the shadows of doubt that I was able to scrape together on fallen wood. I create a sailboat from my unpublished drafts and send them drifting down the stream. They collide with a myriad of other boats at journey’s end… thoughts left to silently die by me. And turning away from my failures I look up as the rain begins to fall. The echo of droplets hitting puddles beneath my feet compound the reality of the moment. A reality I embrace with my last breath.