The sheer volume of whirling specks,
Torpedoing along a beaming spotlight,
Competing against the wind to survive.
Imagine the dust motes as tiny planets:
Each in orbit around the shining sun.
What may seem so small, so futile,
Can be another’s whole entire world.
Don’t underestimate the tiny dust motes.
They are always there, buzzing, living,
Never still even in the stagnant light,
Like tiny humans in an infinite universe.
