need

vastness has a way of

emptying me.

i sit beneath the night sky

swallowed by stillness,

i stand before the wide sea

drowned in its roar.

a thin voice sprouts in the

space left over, familiar

and worn:

i don’t matter,

it whispers.

i’m so small, so

feeble,

a single fraying thread in

the web of creation.

am i needed?

i walk beside the mountain

and consider

the importance of

a lone flower

i can’t

even

see.

but,

braves the same voice,

each flower belongs to a bee,

each bee to a drop of honey,

each drop to a cup of something warm,

each cup to a pair of shivering hands,

each hand to the cheek of a beloved,

each cheek to a pale beam of sunlight,

each beam to the petal of a flower

bursting on the mountainside.

the web is woven of single threads

clinging to each other.