just a bug

I don’t know the present others by name.
We don’t quite speak that way.
But spoken words don’t differentiate what another life means.
They are to me, as me.

Wonder, wonder the light,
as it pulls all of us with might. A wonder, wonder, this pull gravitational.
Wonder,
wonder if maybe one might be able to magnify such wondrous wonders,
multiplied in uncountable numbers.

I can’t much write, but maybe I can find another word.
Wonder is the word incapable to define the magnitude streaming
the hard to define simple life of just a bug.
Multiply that countless words over in describing all of us.

But, let me elevate the wonder in the moment singular.

Just a bug.



Published by Other People's Flowers, 2019

 
Written by Joe Bisicchia on 31/03/19
© 2019 Joe Bisicchia

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life, Light, words, people, flowers

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