The Source

I think I may have found the source, less me,
not loss of me…under wonder thunder
that cracks earth open, also anoints it,
leaves me open mouthed, able to speak…

my words are so small, near no sound at all,
I’m particular muse’s squeaking mouse
I say whims and whisper, chuckles thrown in.
this counts for nothing, as do I, and yet…

the sun shines down …