Does it Matter?

It’s late afternoon. The light is fading, the sun balancing precariously on the far ridge. I’m out here on my porch. Watching, struggling. Struggling to locate the words I want. To put them down here on paper. To share a piece of myself with others. If I move now, I know the thought and momentum embedded in this moment may be lost forever. But I wonder, if unwritten, will it matter to anyone but me? And does that really matter as long as it’s done, completed, and I’m satisfied?