No more than a speck of dust upon the fleeing moment,
No more than a silent breath upon the wind,
No more than a forgotten seed that breasts the unforgiving earth,
No more than all the words that lie unsaid.
For this is life, and this is how the moments draw and creep,
When hope and meaning hide themselves away,
And dare to taunt that all is nought but shadow,
That who I am is fantasy and dream.
And yet each speck of dust is borne on dreams,
And silent breaths can carry words across the world,
While seeds that strive through soil to reach the sun
Will always speak of God, of life, of love.