ODE TO THE SPECK OF DUST

I wish to be a free-floating speck of dust, drifting through the air, bathed in soft light, buoyant and unrestrained. The soil clings firmly to the earth, silently bearing the heavy burden of life, while I long to float in mid-air, rising with the wind as my companion, pursuing my heart’s desires amidst the breezes. Though the soil brims with fertile life-giving richness, it also restrains robust growth. But I do not wish to be bound, nor subject to any constraints; the soil holds nothing I seek. I only wish to soar through the vast sky, borne aloft by gentle wafting breezes. There, unburdened by troubles or feathers, only the joy of freedom remains.
However small, the motes adrift embody liberty itself - minuscule to the point of needing no borrowed light to be perceived. Unfettered, wafting wherever the winds may carry, roaming between earth and sky, flitting through mountains and streams, in the instants when illuminated, blossoming forth with the radiance of freedom, equality, and ideals. I too wish to become such a speck, buoyantly drifting through all constraints, then looking back to laugh about “having no wind, rain, or sun.”
The aimless wandering speck’s life is fleeting, yet it fully savors freedom’s bliss in that ephemeral moment. Alone, thus free; insignificant, thus fearless; possessing naught, thus anything owned is its possession. It needs no worry about the future nor fret over life - even facing oblivion, it could boldly stake its every having in a gamble to win all, immersing eternally in freedom’s joy, unencumbered by fame or fortune, undisturbed by status or renown, solely pursuing the liberty and happiness of the heart.
Perhaps becoming a speck entails solitude, being disregarded - but so what? In this vast world, we are but tiny motes; since all ends in nothingness regardless, whether pioneering, ravaging, hunting, preserving, propagating, reveling… all descends into meaninglessness. Why not then pursue joy along the way, enduring loneliness for freedom, better than constrained complacency? For only in drifting freedom like a speck can one find the true self, the meaning of life, inner tranquility.
I wish to be a free-roaming speck adrift in the air - small yet unrestrained, chasing sunbeams beneath the azure, glimpsing destiny amidst the vast, swirling haze. Soaring blissfully, reveling in the rapture of unfettered liberty. May specks forever spur the journey onward with equanimity, schemes never unveiled. We shall reunite under the dawn’s glow - the undying specks.
Forsake questioning, as torrents forsake the play of starlight; let the deluge of metaphor course through you bodily. You shall behold the truth beyond the star-field’s edge, the rose-tinged mirage of the void.
–Afterword