Can something be evidence if no one ever knew it existed?
It’s my personal felled tree with no one around

I was here, I had purpose,
I made things happen, even if I didn’t know what they were

I’m a terrible blogger
and for all the criticism about my poor response to texts and calls,
I can’t even answer myself

Head full of words and thoughts and idea
but not a single ounce of motivation or ability to push it out,
market and sell and wave my arms frantically above a universal crowd of other voices
screaming me me I was here, see me now before it‘s all over.

So here I lay them, my artifacts of my existence
somewhere, where someone might find them
and hold them close with even a shred of relevancy

The bruised acorn in a child’s gritty pocket
that has no meaning except to the sticky hand

that saw it worthy enough to treasure