Contemplation

Contemplation

Sometimes
I worry,
As through
My life
I hurry,
That there
Will come
A day
When I
Have 
Nothing
Left
To say.
Finally,
I’ll
Face 
The fact
My 
Scraps
Of Art
Have had
No impact.
This 
Dismal
Mood
Does me
No good.
I
Stumble
Back
To My
Scribbling
And my
Brush,
And tell
Myself
To hush.
One more
Foolish
Poem,
Another
Sketch
Will allow
My mind
To 
Stretch,
And if
I’m lucky,
I will
Touch
Glory,
And write 
My
Life’s
Humble
Story.