What Does I Matter?

There are Oceans out there,
and mountains, midwest.
There are storms so powerful
they can make you disappear.
There are swarms of bees
on the verge of apocalypse
yet they struggle – each does its part –
dancing and collecting.
There are Mountains!
Oh, the Mountains.
There are streams of water
purer than the rain.
There is dirt so fragrant
it would put your sterile homes to shame.
There are trees thousands of years old,
there are forests of them
unmoving, stoic and moss-covered.
There are skies that span east to west.
There are horizons
yet to have been met.
There is so much to discover,
What does I matter?
What could I possibly matter?
I is for Insignificant.
I is for small.
I is for forgetting
that you are only part of it all.


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