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Writings \
Poetry >
Speck of Dust
by Mark Hunter
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I am just a speck of dust.
On a piece of bread, I am the crust.
Wholly insignificant, nothing big
On an Oak tree, I am a twig.
Nothing happened on my day of birth
Just one more insect crawling Earth
No truths were founded, nothing proved
No mountains were made and no oceans moved.
A single small life on a tiny blue ball
Drifting through the great vastness of it all
Every day I live I get sucked to my end
On a course of hopelessness that will not bend
And when I go, the Earth will remain
The stars won't cry. They'll feel no pain.
The cosmos won't shrink. It will not bust.
It won't even notice one less speck of dust.
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