as a party of one

well, who are they?

those staggeringly small amounts

of infinitesimally minute, 

highly invisible specks,

almost considered ray-like in substance

as yet beyond our sensory range of perception,

but significantly substantial

in their own right.

and they all, to a tee,

look back at us and go.

"say what?"

well, in their own way

of having say, that is.

not to be in the least way 

bothered by our perception of them,

as if insignificant to their own right of being.

and yet,

we are highly dependent upon them

for the composition of our own makeup, 

our own physical presence,

be it so preoccupied,

at a scale 

so gargantuan to their presence and cause,

that we, in the course of our daily lives,

find them not worth our rendering.

but as the planet goes on,

we are way more likely to end

as an existence, than they are.

our departure will have little impact of them.

while conversely,

if they left first

we would soon to be

that which follows.

so much for relative relevance.

we're in their line,

in their world,

at their mercy. 

but by a grand of benevolence,

we all carry on,

as if a party of one . . .