echo hollow
It’s moments like these
when the sun lifts its head
to the sky
and bows to the clouds,
not wondering why
no birds are flying,
but it sees every human—
for who they truly are,
each with a story etched in their chests,
each with a vision wrapped in faith,
each with a gift stitched in their hearts.
Even though the sun is above us,
doesn’t mean it’s better than us
it only shines on the earth’s crust.
As for us, we can touch endless grass,
yet we have to lie in endless dust
as if we never accomplish anything on earth.
Maybe we are feathers drifting
through a silent storm,
but we don’t know whether or not
that’s true.
slow nymph