Unfinished Works

If you write words and no one reads them, are they invisible?

What happens when someone dies and leaves behind their dog-eared diaries or hidden porn or quarter-written stories or the oil painting  just being sketched or the guitar music with no lyrics or the poem with just one stanza?

Who will complete the thoughts, the art, the masterpiece, the garbage? Anyone?  Or will it remain in limbo, like a half-eaten meal, dishes on the table, food congealing and cold?

Our eyes might gloss over the work, not knowing the heart, the love, the angst, the hatred,  the hope, the fears that created the incomplete works.

Or someone might finger the papers and pick up a pencil and write, surroundings forgotten or  strum the notes while singing new lyrics, a collaboration unexpected.

Who knows?  And will the person gone care? or assist in the completion, unseen and unfelt?  C

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2 thoughts on “Unfinished Works

  1. Lucky Bird

    Sometimes I get sad when I see boxes of old photos in the junk store or flea market. I wonder how it ended up there? I also sometimes feel overwhelmed by the amount of ephemera and photos I have accumulated over the years. I mean – once I’m gone what will become of it? Will it, too end up in a box in the thrift store?

  2. raspberr1es

    It’s sad to think about the things we leave in this world and not really know where it will be without us or their creators, fifty, sixty years down the road. Are we really looking at the same artwork people looked at many years ago when they first designed it? What are we missing out on?

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