On Being Small

The little things
Pictures taken
With our eyes
Smells, touches
Listen as they call

Memories like waves
Across finite sand
We exist briefly
Yet live little
Few heed
More herd

We weave fabric
Though we act
Looking down
Noticing nothing.

On a perfect planet
Humanitarians prevail
Amongst the selfish
The lost
Greed is again a sin
Abhorred by all
Not one goes hungry

Life is a gift
No matter your hand
Service, compassion, love
The rewards are many
But, not for you
Or your final plans

Pouring goodness
Into the cosmos
Proving your humanity
Is a noble pursuit
The alternative
Can damage your soul