Little and Tiny things

In the quiet moments, whispers of the heart, Little things, like silent darts, do their part. A word unsaid, a glance not met, Invisible pains, we try to forget. Big storms rage and pass, their fury spent, But it's the gentle rain that soaks, persistent. A lover's small neglect, a friend's slight, Cut deeper than the darkest night. Tiny grains of sand, underfoot they press, A nuisance at first, then a throbbing distress. So too, the little hurts we accrue, Build up, weigh down, in ways we rue. For it's not the mountains we're asked to move, But the pebbles in our shoes, that disrupt our groove. The little things, in love or disdain, Leave the longest scars, the deepest pain. So let us tend to the little with care, For in their subtlety, they strip us bare. It's the little things, after all, that truly test, And by conquering them, we find our rest.