Are we so little, you and I?
Are we such specks, you and I?
Do we not make noise, you and I?
Are we silence, you and I?

I don’t think so.
And yet…

How can we move
so that the rivers talk,
so that the mountains sing,
so that the oceans thunder,
so that the skies gallop with joy?

Movement as a historical maybe
just won’t work.

I fear it will all be gone
before I’ll have a chance to shout, “hold on!”
and be left with us,
in silence.