tiny

From a tiny spark may burst a mighty flame. — Dante

tiny.

it’s how i feel sometimes when i think of the ocean, the sky, the universe. beautiful and beyond the capacity of my imagination. the wind blows and i listen as the sounds of other worlds cross oceans and whisper in my ear. smells of adventure. lost chances. hope.

hope.

it keeps me afloat, optimistic in the rhythms of the world and the waves of happiness calling out from over mountaintops. i wonder where this tiny speck that i am fits in to this overflowing panarama of life. tropical rainbows. never-ending. bright.

bright.

it draws me in against my will with the mystery of its pulse that emanates such warmth and radiance. i flutter and float towards it with no hesitation, no regrets, just the hope of a tiny moth wishing for wonder. once i get it. i shudder. i die.

i die.

but it is the most beautiful death, for with it i was wrapped in a garment of color and love, so filled with awe and inspiration. yellow rays fill me and i become a tiny bit of hope, brightening the world and its pockets of darkness. upon death. i become life. 

and i fill the world.

 

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