They danced about in the light as the sun was shining through the window. Each particle of dust with its own life, space and substance. Reflecting light, that to a degree, added light to the room. Each floating in their own space, freely moving about. Are they aware of their own existence? Are they the microcosm to our world as the macrocosm? Is there life there on that little particle? Does each wonder about its purpose for being? Are we like those particles of dust; the microcosm to the macrocosm of the universe? How insignificant the particle appears from afar? But what life does it contain?
What life do we contain?
What life do we contain?
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