Small things

It is our dreams of small things,
In the small hours of big world,
Small dreams about a big place.

Like mosquito’s hum at the ear
As the wings take small sounds
Adding up to  big focus at night.

Like death adds up to a big hour
In  wide vast sky above our roof
And sun makes its small sounds.

Like birth is  small thing caught
With  star in embroidered cloth
And death crowing on a rooftop.

Like sleep dies in ants crawling,
Small things on a busy big back,
Death dreaming of small things.

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