Life richer the smaller I live it, the less effort to dominate,
win, understand. Better to be the size of orange ladybugs
consummating, the bottom one still, the top one shimmying,
vibrating, wriggling before releasing on that vine, tiny white
flowers blooming, unphased I did not know their name.
Smaller than the me and you, the I and Thou weave eternally
connected moments, the larger story’s ending unknowable,
those who pass will unlikely know our name, and this –
one life fading into the next, making way for those on a vine
not yet budded, tiny releases of unrestrained love –
this is where greatness and glory reside.
lovely. pure loveliness.