There is no individual  

too small to be a seed,  

growing quietly in the shadow,  

unseen, yet shaping the soil.

No hand too frail,  

that cannot brush against the breeze,  

whispering change  

in the spaces between moments.

No voice too soft,  

to ripple through the silence,  

where echoes find their way  

into the heart of the world.

There is no life so brief,  

that its light cannot touch another,  

leaving a trace,  

a spark that lingers in the dark.