Here I am, something so small;

I barely seem a thing at all

compared to cosmos, far and wide

that I feel deserve greater pride.

For what are my problems to those

in lost interstellar limbos,

who blame our bids to hear their plea

on lack of air and gravity?

No, I’ve got nothing like the fear

that binds a celestial sphere,

and so I sit in humbled sky

and watch them as they drift on by…


But wait! Why do I muddle so

if my maps and charts let me know

that I’m the one who draws their path

and studies every pictograph?

For what are they, if they’re not seen,

but pieces of a lost machine…?

Know it only takes something small

to see the wonder of it all.

“A Sky Full of Stars”


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