The horizon desolate it matters not what you were memories are just that memories a familiar road peering within inadequacy reaching out to what end tomorrow matters more without performance love has conditions a battered heart realizing I am nothing life’s miscarriage so what is left redemption maybe a tear I do not think so life moves on a judgement my memories scattering empty spaces no hand awaits erase me. Edward J Ebbs - February 20, 2016