A Brush with Space-Time

Nothing in the universe, I,
Not a person, an instant,
A fraction of a sigh
From some celestial giant.
Clipped into a wedge of a mosaic
Piece, unseen from afar
And chipped from the archaic
Landscape of a cosmic star.
A brush with space-time is all I get
To throw my rock and hope it skips
So I become more than a subset
Briefly eclipsing until forever eclipsed.
Still, there is no niche to be found
Where the galaxy calls resound.