I am but a mote
Floating alone
Through the smurr of troubles
Unaware of the brilliant Light above

Or a ruderal
Trying to flourish alone
In hardness of heart

Too often I am marcescent
Clinging to my past mistakes

Until the susurrus of others calls me
To the divine murmuration 
Dance flying together
Softly quietly 

Until, one by one,
We alight on the Sun’s zenith.