This speck of dirt is fabulous
It moves through ceteris paribus
Since it needed a change of pace
In the running of the rat race
It adapts well to all conditions
Wet, dry, alone or within a group
Sometimes it needs a place to recoup
Hey, there’s a dot in my soup!
Pausing, the dirtball consumes again
Doesn’t matter who, what, why, or when
If all we are is dust in the wind
Why do we care so much about next of kin?
Anywhere the wind blows
Is where the little seed grows
Continuously, it expands
Despite all the reprimands
As it reaches the Hinterland
This little iota met its quota
Yet, there’s always more to inquire and inspire
C’mon Baby, light my fire!