that would be created
if I were to disappear...
How big would it be?
Not very, I imagine
than a fraction of a part of an 8th of a cell that is already dividing into something
If I were to disappear,
there would be few,
obligatory tears shed,
that would be it
Possible happily ever after, and then
but no purpose
does not mean I am worthless.
Even if a book gets burned,
Or a mural is marred,
Or a sonata is slaughtered...
for the time of its existence,
There was beauty in the eyes of the beholders,
And isn't that enough?
For the time being
some of the only eyes that I can see
are the ones reflected back at me
But isn't that enough
It has to be enough,
for the only other beauty beheld in any other eyes
is derived from the blank slate of a mask that they are allowed to see,
save for Those few who are willing to take it off and
But it's enough.
With the mask, I am a complete and utter stranger, but
I am who I am:
Visible music and audible art.
I am me.
My book will be burned one day,
and I know that
few people will read through it to the end,
if at all.
But it will have been read
and have, for some reason, meant something to someone somewhere.
Even if that "somewhere" is barren
Even if that "someone" is brief
Even if that "something" is bereft
Even if that "some reason" is "just because"
It will have been enough.