Forget Me Not...

Walking along the path, I noticed small clumps of tiny pale blue flowers.  They were so small and in the riotous blooming of spring, it would be easy to pass them by.  As I stopped to examine these little forget-me-nots, it made me think.

In the riotous blooming (and decay) of humanity, I'm but just a tiny flower, easily forgotten.  Ultimately, my impact is but a small one.  These words will disappear.  The voice of the one speaking them will one day cease to exist.  Their echoes will be lost in the cacophony of shouting voices.  Their significance will diminish in the multitudes of many songs spread out over an endless succession of years.

Even though the forget-me-not might be the slightest of flowers, this does not mean it refuses to bloom.  It will do so, whether there are larger more showy flowers around or not.

I like to think that even though one day I will be forgotten, I still manage to make the best of each day.  I know that my posterity is limited, and eventually my name will hold no meaning.  Despite that, I'll keep blooming.  (As if I could stop myself from doing just that?)  And if someone happens to stop on their way and takes a brief moment for my small flowers, I hope they will see someone intent on helping others, being an advocate for what is right, dreaming big dreams, and adding a little beauty to this world.  For it is the small things, in their great and abundant diversity, gathered and held together that makes the world so grand.  Each flower, no matter how ephemeral, makes the vista that much richer and more beautiful to behold.