Man was nothing, a tiny mote in nature's vast well of snow and ice.

A shimmering collection of tiny motes began to collect to his right.

A tiny mote still darted after the sweet water residents left out.

The light was back, and there was a tiny mote in it that moved even as I watched.

Here and there, however, a tiny mote pulsed with unnatural energy.

Even at this distance, he could see tiny motes swirling above the inferno.

Abruptly a tiny mote of red fire seemed to dance upon the center of the bowl.

Hours later, Earth telescopes had found the tiny mote that flashed in the outer void.

Then the tiny mote of mass was gone.

By touching him, I could sense him as a tiny mote of awareness, buried deep.