We sit upon a sandy shore, this little bug and me.
It is there, I know not why, while I am with the sea.
It crawls through sand and underfoot, not even aware I'm there.
Concerned with things that concern a bug, of life and death, no care.
And I touch it to make it aware.
How very much like a god am I, with power over life and death.
With a bigness so great, the bug can't see, my right foot from my left.
I'm caused to wonder `bout grains of sand, and this old earth of flowers.
Of just how little my mind takes up, my life a matter of hours.
And sad that my eyes, perhaps do not see, my heart can't be at ease.
A thought of the wind which touches my face, is not just merely the breeze.
How very much like that bug am I, so little a part of life and death,
God's bigness so great, that I can't see, His right foot from His left.
~Roger Keith Hughes © 7/99