u/slugPickle

Small as a seed on the wind,
yet it finds its place in the cracks.

It insists on light where no one planted it,
and drinks by virtue of the sky's own pity.

Even as the world seeks to erase it,
instead, it scatters and spreads.

Holding close the longing of countless,
as it begins again.

Much like hope,
it remains so stubbornly

alive.