The Fate of the Lone Dust-Mote.
The Fate of the
Lone Dust-Mote. journey stories

sy Hgnf Dobble Bla!
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light: lʌɪt/, adjective; comparative adjective: lighter; superlative adjective: lightest

of little weight; not heavy

The Fate of the Lone Dust-Mote.

Once I was called on a journey, To venture far from home. Away from those who loved me, Hopelessly, happily, lone.

I set off on my feather-boat, And launched into the sky. To see where chance would take me, And how my lot would lie.

I passed into the sunset, Through the night 'til dawn. When at last I came to forgein lands, And between call and comfort, was I torn.

This land was green and plentiful, With ripe fruit and honey sweet. But I did not think this was my end, And with myself I did entreat;

Should I stay in this easy Eden, When there is still a-ways to go? To live in softest luxury, Or risk what I do not know?

For fourteen sunsets I sat on the shore, Tossed in lenghty debate. When at last on the fifteenth sunrise, I settled finally on my fate.

I climbed to top the tallest tree, And launched my feather boat. Off I flew to my journey's call, And the fate of the lone dust-mote.

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