I picked my pen to write about the grain.
One grain of idea came,
But I do not know how to put an end.
I write another grain of idea again.
And then another, and then another.
Until I noticed, thirty minutes later,
I have not written anything ready for sharing.
But I do have lots of these grains,
Written on my paper, waiting to have an ending.
From each other they are different,
And important to be given a life.
To be shared, to be read.
It’s just like you and me,
We are all grains that contribute to the sands of time.
No one is lower, no one is higher.
We are all the same in the island of our universe.
Without one, the sands would cease to be.
We need each other,
To live, to thrive, to be.
I need you, you need me.
We are grains in the sands of time.
And we each have to end our story,
If possible in an inspiring way;
That those who would follow our paths,
Would recognize how important a grain could be.
That even though, each is just a grain,
Together we contribute in each other’s journey.