These modest lines which I wouldn't dare call poetry for lacking the power of art may at least bring a smile or a new thought into bold momentary relief for being something new, unexpected, though not very deep or certainly profound. My voice may be odd, too and may not harmonize immediately or comfortably with your own inner voice or what you expect or hope for in lines like these. And you may be right! But if there's any worth in these words and if they touch a few hearts and minds and spirits perhaps a certain commonality may have briefly come to life here among us and the foolishness and vanity of wasted time, wasted days pursuing art may not becomemy epitaph.