Who am I, But a drifting mote of dust, Filtering down in the golden sunshine’s rays? Who am I, But an expanding ripple, Sinking in an ever changing lake?

Who am I, But a drifting mote of dust, Filtering down in the golden sunshine’s rays? Who am I, But a...

Questions often go unanswered, as do descriptions of things that are not concrete. 
by @booples21
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