The Little Bits


The little bits that form
You, me and all
little and loosely bound.

Kept, yet hardly so.

Sand in the hand
in the wind
ready to float away.

To disappear and
into anu
and then nothing.

our little bits.

To break, crumble and fall.

To pull apart from within.

Why do they remain?

our little bits.

To rebel, struggle and drown.

To cut the chord and cohort as another, elsewhere.

Our basic selves,
the little bits,
not really ours no more.


(Photo Courtesy of: )


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