Needing a map

The philosophy and otherwise irrelevant ramblings of a struggling poet.

Monday, November 03, 2003

She told me to write about
Small
Small as in the size of a mustard seed
Or the size of a gnat.
A blade of grass
Small as in a city
smaller than the wings of an airplane
What it means to be small
To disappear into the air as if
I were never there
Why I desire
Small
To disappear
As the mustard seed is used, crushed,
The gnat is killed
The blade of grass dies
The city disappears into the mist as I get further away
Disappearing as if I were never there.

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