You're a speck of dust

You're a speck of dust and you fall on me.

Over the course of several months, I have been a reluctant witness of the failing of human resolves, the insecurity of our needs for something fulfilling, the naivety of our childish compulsion for something destructive. And my, how I was amused.

Sometimes I think human beings are akin to dusts. We are insignificant, We are a nuisance. The world doesn't need us, the world gets by without us. Like little dusts, we float around, we settle, we make visible of our tiny selves - we are not easily brushed off.

Nevertheless, there seems to be an affectionate relationship in our regards to the pitiful existence of dusts. We retaliate with anger and frustrations at its every visits, but we dutifully sweep it off day after day - and sometimes without complaints, sometimes willingly, sometimes with the pride of accomplishing something noble.

Human behaviour continues to amaze me, and in the complexity of the human-dust relationships I've decided to sit outside the box and observe the hilarity of things unfolding before my very eyes. I'm not a part of it, and I have no desire to be a part of it.

You're a speck of dust and you fall on me. You can sit there as long as you want, because I will never want you and I will never miss you.