Everything's relative" they say
And from way up here
Why would you care?

The mighty oak and the sturdy pine
The fields of blooming flowers and the green pastures of grass
The rich brown soil and the rolling hills stained with jagged stones
Concrete cities that spill out into the valley below
A maze of houses and roads built by human hands

The mothers and fathers working in the stores
and the school children skipping back home

The hopes and dreams of a people
the strife and struggle
the battles
and the losses
the victories and celebrations
The tears and embraces

From way up here they are only pixels of paint on the grand canvas
of The Universe
like a grain of sand in the endless dunes of existence
they are forgettable, overlooked and unimportant

But that piece called
'The Universe'
It is only one of many paintings in a sad and incomplete collection called
'The Unknown'
And that makes them insignificant
It is almost better for them to not even exist


But soon the swift wind comes sweeping down the valley
and into the cities and through the fields of flowers
rustling in between the sturdy pines and blowing past the rugged hills

drifting
                 ai m
                         le ss
                                 l  y

beyond the towering clouds above


"Everything's relative" they say,
but I guess that's just how I see it.