there are few feelings I have that seem to be as complex as feeling small. how can something, this one something invoke such terrifying reverence in me and extreme beauty. a grace in feeling small. an impossibility of comprehension in feeling small. it must be more so the word sublime. I suppose that is what I feel when I say I feel small. I am handled in a way that says we will break you, and the ocean says I will swallow you, and your hands say I will hold you, and the forest says I will loose you.
3 Replies to “on being small”
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