There’s a lot of self-important people running for office these days. Lest we think they’re better than us, or we, them, here’s a little poem to contemplate:
Speck of Dust
Blowing about and mixing in;
Sometimes part of the hard red clay,
Sometimes lifting and blowing away.
I’m one in a million
To the power of sextillion
Compared to the whole, there ain’t much of me.
But that means I have lots of company.
We swirl in a cloud on a blustery day.
We come together and we ebb away.
I follow the breeze, this stream of air,
As it carries me hither, thither and there.
I can shine in the sun or hide in the gray,
But I can’t prevent being carried away.
Wherever I go, and whatever I see,
Will pass as I blast through eternity.
There’s never a place that I’ve blown through twice,
And never a breeze that didn’t feel nice.
So if some dust ever lands near your eye,
Please brush it away and allow it to fly.
For a speck of dust loves to roam.
With the wind as its path and the sky as its home.