A piece in the puzzle.

Through the particles of being

beyond the  skies

the dust of legends

descend from the heavens

showering the minds

with sparkling lights.

Across the fields of 

many a minds

I find myself

alone but

playing my part

in someone else's story.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your poem makes me ponder how all the pieces fit, or if they are even worth pondering. I thought I was part of certain people's lives for so many years, but then this illusion changes drastically later in life. You've captured this puzzling phenomenon without trying to pontificate about it (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[kentuck14]

Our quest for meaning is an integral part of the human story. Without meaning we are merely tenant farmers plowing someone else's land. The harvest is never truly ours . . . most of it belongs to others.
T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

like Sheryl Crow sang...
"wondering why i'm a stranger in my own life"

we don't get to really know ourselves until there is so little time left---
j.

[Chris Shaw]

I really like this little piece. When you stand back and think about it, we are indeed a small part in the story of many we touch throughout our lives whether we like it or not. Even after we are gone we can still in our absence have an impact. Thoughtful lines.

Chris