Imagine a cosmic saltshaker.  Life turned upside down and ground up.  A few specks of joy.  Here and there.  Those annoying little specks that people see and sigh and sweep up.  And dump in the bin.  Because there is another bag of salt in the cupboard.  Because it is not worth collecting a few grains.  Because everyone is in a hurry and salt doesn’t always fall where you want it to.  It must be tidied up.  Put in its place.  Controlled. 

It is us, the mentally ill who grab those random little specks that others barely notice.  It is us who see that the tiniest things can make life taste better.  Every tiny grain is worth saving.  And storing in its own special jar.

Originally written 2006; edited Dec, 2019