dust

love of man, of
ordinary homo sapiens, recognizing
in amusement that in the end, the wholly
unremarkable individual finds
joy in the littlest acts
of giving, caring,
of owning a small piece of the
hearts of his dust-particle brethren
and that the only thing that matters
is that their instantaneous flashes of
existence overlap, so that
they each can see the other’s
light if but for a brief moment
before collapsing into dust and
time disintegrates the transient memory
of anything having ever been.