Naught that I am

I am nothing:
a speck in time,
air breathed in,
an exhale.
A proverbial speck,
a disappointment to myself,
a disappointment to my Creator.
Barely a ripple shall mark my passing
in the great pond of life.
Though I see beauty all around me,
my vision seems naught but a curse,
my gifts go wasted by my own inadequacies,
my propensity to failure,
my inability to follow through.
Though life & love you may not miss me,
naught that I am, I shall miss you.