You can be a hero; the sun
is not your crown. Neither ant
or stripe-backed swallow
will change their path;
the winds will remain
pathless.
Pebbles pressed into ground,
their quiet existence supports
the weight of kings. Your feet
will not increase their pleasure;
their pleasure is
existence.
From the infant's mouth,
a trumpet sound; not a single
cry from a thousand stars.
The skies are full of glorious
comets that fall
invisibly.
