I am less than.
My insignificance a common thing.
I’m a particle of dust but even I
sparkle in certain light.
At night I float around pages
filled with words that
no one will remember.
I sing a melancholy tune.
Bare and ruined.
I pray to the God of dust bunnies,
who is adored or loathed by all
the other particles.
Everyday we lift up our dusty eyes
to the ceiling, hoping for a skylight
to reveal the heavens. All the while
awaiting our death sentence by rag.
Resigned to our fate we conversed
with the ashes and await our downfall.