a tiny songbird is my spirit here,
a subtle whisper soft within the roar;
the din of voices mightier than mine;
of wind, or soaring hawk or passing crow.

i sing of wisdom and the mystery
of life, sustained by some unfathomed power.
and of the wonders common yet sublime,
like love, and beauty present in the small.

the grander sights, the starry skies, the sea,
and mountains may quite overwhelm with awe.
but oceans are composed of tiny drops.
the shore of many little grains of sand.

a mountain, mountain is, the vale because.
the stars would daunt if seen in proper size.
the large is only so proportionate
unto small by their comparison.

tho tiny things may seem preposterous,
perchance not worth the effort to observe,
the cosmos is of tiny atoms made!
so much there is from subtlety to learn.

thus insignificant, the small may be.
/and my own being slighter - smaller/ still,
know every thread is wove this tapestry
of life within and each essential is.