Hey.
I'm talking to you:

all of you
who spill their seed
unto expectant blank sheets
and then try to sop up
everything that isn't art,

and those of you
with the naive idiocy
to try and capture the
breathless admiration
upon seeing a sparrow
in its purposeful
fleeting escape

and to all those aching souls
in houses of darkened memories
huddled in corners
playing their earnest acoustic guitars
trying to deconstruct
and reconstruct
the past,
daring to imagine
a tomorrow,
any tomorrow.

Finally, to the few
who trod this sacred path
wearing oversized clown shoes
just to see
where it leads
for laughs,

I urge you:
keep moving forward.

Do not be swayed
by the reader count
still stuck at

001.

Do not think that
you are invisible
or that you suck
or that you are
a mere content provider.

You're the holder
of the puzzle piece
that belongs to
no one else

and if you die
with it still
in your possession
then all you've done
is tighten
the knot of confusion
around the rest of us.

Face it.
Sometimes people comment.
Sometimes people don't.

But you are not invisible.

Enjoyed these lines:
Do not be swayed
by the reader count
still stuck at

001.

I think you should drop the last line.  The stanza before is a better ending!

Thanks for reading and commenting, my kind, loyal readers. :) Moskowitz

Hell, there were some decades when I wish the reader count had been as high as 001.  Nice poem.