Boy: a poem

Staff Writer



Billions upon billions of people,
With even more planets,
And to each one, a star,
For there are billions of those,
Belonging to one of the billion galaxies,
In this gaping and edacious universe,
And I, a boy.

A boy birthed to two benevolent parents,
Loved by compassionate friends,
For there are bunches of boys,
Without the grace of those gifts,
And for that, I am at the surrender,
Of a construct to which I know not,
Fate or God or Luck,

But I feel like a speck of dust,
A tiny speck of dust,
In this gaping, edacious universe,
Had been crafted fortunate enough,
To meet other specks of dust,
That believe in people, and make me feel like,
A bigger, better, tiny speck of dust.

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