When is it that you know something is over?

Is it like reading a book?

The closer you get to the end the thinner it seems to get.

Is it like eating an orange?

Counting down to the last section.

Is it like your last tank of gas when the needle reads “E” and a light glows “gone”.

Or is it simply when you find there is only one clean sheet of paper to record your thoughts on?

And how do you really know it’s the last sheet?

Does it somehow look different from the others, or do you just know somehow?

Did you check everywhere?

Can you borrow some more?

If you can, how will you pay it back?

Most importantly.
When you do reach the last clean sheet, what will you write?

Will you somehow tell all in one brief flash of insight?

Will you relive joy, sorrow, enlightenment, mystery, bitterness, elation, anger?

Will you thank those who helped you?

Would you curse those who didn’t, or make an exception to forgive all in a moment of understanding?

Realizing that your last clean sheet will be your last chance to be generous and somehow balance the scales that tipped so far to this day.

Can you be sure which sheet of the many left before you is really the last sheet?

After all, somehow they all look the same until you write them with your life.

I hope this is not my last, or yours either.
But who’s counting?

The Last Sheet: JL 01-07-02