…the purpose of my prose is merely to give voice to those who feel silenced?
…profit never comes but those who read a composition are enriched because they no longer feel alone?
…this season is merely a cathartic exercise to trim the excess weight from my soul?
…a legacy is unknown by my name but the words are a source of eternal Hope for someone who has lost their way?
…I was content with these simple truths to motivate my work?
a musician cannot measure the lyric and melody carried in a listeners mind.
a canvas may never be seen outside the artists studio or a doodle in a journal.
the warm recollection of a smile or a kind word to a stranger cannot be calculated with a mathematical equation.
…even so, there is value.
What if we simply acted upon the things we know need to be done without concern of results, justification of our investment of time, or fretting over the net result? The world would bloom with the fruit of previously hindered potential.
If only what if transitioned from a thought to a conscious act, the world might know contentment and inner peace. It might cease its pursuit of this and that. The bottomless pit of insatiable desires would become something that could no longer be destroyed.
If what if just was, it would never be silent or unseen again.