The unvoiced tones. muted red and brown, of these stepped over stones. aren't voiceless. The unchosen roads, smoothed down, black and gray, staying their courses. with or without me, aren't choiceless. My unrejoiced friends, the dull brick and smudged glass that grasp. for inattention. or an end. they never reach me joyless. They teach me what life is. and what I can be when it isn't.