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Universal Song
When the universal song sings to me,
cosmic waves washing over and through,
I know I’m just a speck, a spark,
nothing special, nothing new.
Schopenhauer blackens my soul,
trying for lightness I move the day,
time is a flat circle from a view,
yet that’s just askew, another way.
Oh, how we treasure so, these little things,
these endearments held so close,
when my mind gets in the way,
I lose myself, become morose.
Then a bird will sing it’s heaven song,
and life looks brighter for the trill,
and yes, a mote in space we might be,
but our special loves matter still.
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