Thousands of atoms shift
ever so violently to produce
an ever so slight smile,
exploding with the
power of ten thousand suns,

While puffs of air pass pleasantly
from the depths of thriving lungs
out of crooked lips
made of thousands of tiny atom's sons,

And little worlds of white and
ragmatical strings of red
house smaller worlds of
brown and green,
and black which they embed,

Which all in all,
though each so small
and grand in their own way,
partake in that that's necess'ry,
to make up someone's face.