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A Speck

I am but an insignificant speck, in this expanding, never ending universe                                     
My existence, nothing more than a good piss, into a vast ocean to disperse

My words, though at times austere, are not etched in granite stone                                              
Nor, come from a fiery bush, atop a mount; for you to then enthrone

My life, a gust of wind, like a forced fart; an odour, unable to whisk up dust
A mere annoyance, which a tempest force has spewed, in disgust
  
I can but dream, that any meager accomplishment, could have any meaning                                          
In this immense, never ending macrocosm; from which, I am still gleaning

I move no stars, heal no wounds, and erase no scars from this existence                             
A mere wretch, only scratching at the surface, trying to go the distance

But my will is strong, my faith, ingrained by loving virtuous ancestors
So I hope, that even a speck, will at some point, radiate, before it festers
BOEMS BY JA 596

analogyfeelingsnarrative

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