Little flame.

The cliché mask of hope.

Don’t you know

You’re clinging to the wick

For dear life?

The tides sweep up around you

And the monsoon winds blow.

And the daytime breath is fatal,

Don’t you know.

Little leaf.

The minor mind of millions.

Don’t you see

The twig that’s held you firmly

Is about to break?

The autumn breeze is loving,

But its threats could kill your tree.

And the winter winds are deadly,

Don’t you see.

Little smile.

The hidden breath of grace.

Don’t you mind

That the lips that bear your life

Speak of death?

You’re a gift that’s rescued souls;

What a shame, that you are blind.

For you cannot save yourself.

Don’t you mind?