This poem is about what may be the biggest con to which we are subject: that what you do doesn't make any difference. I see this as a cynical project by those in power to entrench and secure a status quo favoring themselves. The pervasiveness of this con weighs heavily on most of us. I know that this con is a lie, but the weight still bears down. Ultimately, I see hope springing eternally, as in “truth beaten to dust will rise again.” So, weather star dust or children of god, you matter, even more than matter. Sow, let's get to it.
Making Know Deference