the dance of the ink riddled fingers

small beginnings

Posted in thought spills by enisea on 16/12/2009

If this intricate little shiny bug could have lived and died without so much as another bug ever caring for it, what would the meaning to its life have been?

I don’t know how I saw it, compared to my pinky finger, it could have easily been mistaken for a shred of grass.  Yet against the wooden surface, where it chanced to fall without recovery, I came, I saw and was so amazed by its miniscopic details!

So I imagined (with much amusement) that my finger was the finger of God and we were all little shiny bugs just fluttering about our little petty worries wondering if our little shiny shoes were noticed by the other little bugs we just flew past. No really, what does it matter? We are all flesh and blood with all the same desires: to be loved, respected, accepted and of influence. We all are canvases of stretched skin over variations of bone structure. We have today in common with which we cannot gauge how much longer for. So tell me you have somebody to care about. Or be a shiny little bug whose life never hurt nor helped another body.

God forbid it to be said of me, “She started small and grew destructive”, I much rather, “She started small and helped the smaller”. We aren’t actually that big (well, all that depending on your perspective and the size and height of your eyes).

Dearly beloved, appreciate your little shiny friends who make you feel big enough to conquer.

Appreciate today, for it is big enough for all of us!


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