Dear Reader,
Another poem.
Tiny
Today
I woke up
and I was so
tiny.
All of the things I said were so small.
The sounds I heard were not even whispers.
And the things I thought were dust specks,
And the desires I have are wind, that comes from nowhere and blows back there just as quickly.
I was so tiny. All the efforts, all the work, all the ideas were so very infinitesimal.
I was not all the earth, and all the sky; I was not the timeless sea.
I was tiny.
Tinier than anything that could do anything to aid anyone.
Tiny.
