&@
Each of us is a note for a cacophony.
Together — a grandiose orchestra.
A mosquito does not hear the whole symphony,
Has no notion of the full register.

It considers its own squeaking pointless
And does not guess at the great gift —
At the price of life, by a common effort
It will cause… a strike of palms…

Listen…
Around and inside there is music:
Mountains, a grain of sand, elephants.
Thunder out of a clear sky, the fastening of a button,
The scrape of a little feather
and the whisper of war.