It was tiny
hidden beneath cooling flesh
the bones of it hushed before the frost of autumn
untimely death
shed as earth clothed itself with ermine, diamonds,
to stay the north-wind's breath.
It became tinier
so tiny time itself passed over it.
Small, smaller than a mote in God's eternal Eye.
The stars forgot it.
The oceans missed it
as they counted each humble grain of sand— twice;
and yet,
quiet, quieter
in this stillness of the uncaring void
it is within the midst of silence
that the soul finds its voice.
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