Infinite Smallness

All that we try on this earth is worthy but of the stars’ mirth. Their lights are million-, billion-year travelers through nothing and everything, come to review the parade of worldly glitters with a shrug and a snicker of cosmic jest, laying all illusions of grandeur to rest, asking, “Dare you put your permanence to my test?” “Not me,” I answer, “It’s all I can do to be thankful for the ride." Still, we must do what we can. I wear my infinite smallness with a dogged pride.