Connecting the Dots
At birth I saw the opening
And a speck of light
From the world that welcomed me –
The first visible light
To excite my pupils, I guess.
That light comes clearer now
As I pass by the road
Full of dried hit-and-run frogs,
With various scenes of life along.
The dots are exposed:
I see one from the night sky
Like a white paint drop
On a black board,
From a grain of sand by the sea,
From a tiny seed
That waits for the time to sprout,
From the eye of a beast
That secretly solicits love,
And from many others.
The dots lie on such an infinitely wide sheet
That I try to connect them
And cannot see the whole picture.
I think God watches me on the sheet
Under a microscope.
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