Even if nothing really matters–
and nothing endures–
and nothing counts.
Even when nobody cares–
and nobody knows–
and none remember.
Even when a thousand mouths snicker,
disbelieve, mock,
pummel with scorn.
Even at life’s end, twisted with regret,
thinking I might have–
could have–should have–
Even though a world becomes dust,
I did a few things
I felt were good.
Short Stories by Richard 
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