Faint mote of dust
O came to perch
Upon what I had joined.
Mode of trust
In cosmic mirth
In laughter with the void.

Through underlanes of nature now,
Slowly done with haste.
To the space
Where it is found,
There is no time to waste.
In time alone,
Outside, unbound,
In all no real mistakes.

So cling not now
To pain alone.
Do not afford the fright.
Then pain in time will quietly go,
And all will become so light.