I am a mote of dust in the cosmos
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and today I made only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and today I made only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tomorrow I might write three pages, if no one but me wakes before 5:45 a.m.
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and today I made only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and this month I will be knocked around by a miniature version of myself, my own wild rages will pummel me with small fists, a seething fury of intractable smallness and the world’s inability to understand
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and next year, or no probably the year after that one, or two, at least two, when all vestiges of my antechildren existence have been wiped from the collective memory of anyone who ever thought of me as a professional human – that year – or the next – I will begin to transform
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and today I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and later this afternoon I’ll try teaching someone to transform rage into love
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and today I made only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and one day I’ll thrust my fist into the air, for small justice, for big and bigger justice, for the right to my own importance and the rights of others who have existed long before me
I am a mote of dust in the cosmos and you have no idea who I am and one day I will rise again
