Sun

As I sit outside, a single dewdrop in the grass is reflecting the sun to me and it twinkles in the breeze. In this one small reflection, I have the whole sun in my yard. And now as the sun climbs the sky, many more twinkles appear; many tiny suns of the same sun.

We pretend we are these many small glimmers, that we are separate, these small sparks, dotting the earth, ignoring how we are actually the one sun split into many.

Every morning we are asked to wake up with the sunrise. Wake up, wake up.

Ever patient, the sun will continue to rise and ask us to wake up and remember who we are.