I am a tiny speck of dust

     I am a tiny speck of dust, without direction or goal. I drifted into the clouds, where purity reigned, but I was too dirty. For that pristine purity, I left the clouds. I fell into a lake and sank to the bottom, where there were no fish, only sprawling, grotesque water plants spreading like a plague. I disliked this place, so I left. I drifted and drifted, crossing mountains and oceans. I saw beautiful scenery, I smelled the intoxicating fragrance of flowers. I had no thoughts, no constraints. Wherever I went, I found it all beautiful. But I was so small, so small that even an ant could trample me underfoot. I had no power, only the power to be manipulated. Yet the world was so beautiful, everywhere was my home, so beautiful, so captivating. I am a tiny speck of dust

    , I fell to the earth, and with a sweep of human brooms, dust filled the air, and I was among it, becoming an object of disgust. I stood by the roadside, cars whizzing by, humans dumping waste beside me, the stench unbearable. I wanted to get away from this place, but I was too small, too weak to move. Then, a little boy came to me, took an old plastic bottle, grabbed a handful of sand, and put it inside. He also put me inside. I found myself in a new environment—a glass bottle. I enjoyed the clean and comfortable surroundings, and I was happy every day. But gradually, I realized something was missing. I tried hard to break free from the bottle's constraints to find what I had lost, but I was too small to escape. Finally, one day, the mischievous family cat accidentally broke the bottle. I quickly breathed in fresh air. Humans, cursing and swearing, swept me away with a broom. So, I began searching for what I had lost.

    I searched and searched. I chatted with the little grass, and it said it felt refreshed after the rain this morning; I danced with the little flower, and it said my dance steps had improved a lot; I greeted the sun and noticed its whiskers had grown longer. I drifted and drifted, feeling the initial joy return. Oh! What I was looking for was freedom!

    I am a tiny speck of dust, falling with the wind. I accept the baptism of spring rain, enjoy the caress of the sun, and quietly exist in this sorrowful world. I have no starlight, no pearl value. I am just a tiny speck of dust, and I want to return to my starting point, in some corner where no one knows me. I am a tiny speck of dust…

    but I will not run away; facing things bravely is the power of a speck of dust!

    I am just a tiny speck of dust, attracting no one's attention. Dust has no tears, no joy or sorrow, no thoughts. So it is happy.

    I am that silent speck of dust, drifting…