I don't write for the world.

There are a thousand Greats

A million Stars:

Socrates

Plato

Woodsworth

Frost

Their brilliance engulfs me.

I don't write for lovers

Or family.

Or friends.

My life can say it better

Than a few paltry words ever could.

I don't write for the past -

It can't be changed.

After all, how do I express lessons

Graven on souls?

I don't write for the future

That'd be silly

Because then I wouldn't understand

The now.

 I don't even write for myself

I have all I need

And I've heard everything I've got to say.

I write instead in The Hope

That my passing whisper

Of frail meaning

Will be strong enough

To outlast

The deafening shouts

Of Everyone Else...

Even after my faint candle's gone out.

When that happens -

And it will -

Perhaps my whisper

Will reach the ear of

One

Person.

And I can almost see them smile

As they pass the whisper on.