Brevity

My window is small. Yours, also.

A tiny porthole on a small ship in a vast expanse.

In the quest for significance,

we strive and compete for recognition,

but it all passes so quickly.

All we really need is to simply be.

I am increasingly aware of my brevity,

especially in light of the boulders that form the shoreline.

The large white rock is significant,

transported there by melting ice

seventy million years ago.

My role is much smaller — so far, less than seventy.