's

the world of small things
lives in a word and a breeze
and a potenculus force
manifest in
the invisible tug of air
on an unseen thing
the dance of dust
in a tiny crack
the sense that lost people
come back in a moment
and that eyes can only hide
what you really see

time grows
when the world shrinks
and even atoms betray
ghosts in a head
drawing life
from 's breadth