Dust is meant to settle

Leaving its fine patina of red

Scattered over everything

We hold dear

Reminding us

That the end is always


No matter how far away

We try to run

Or how often in striving to repair

What was truly broken

We come undone

Some things are just meant to be left

For decay is truly not the end

Even if fear makes us forget

It as a phase

Of a far larger cycle

So there comes a time

Just to stare

Into the dust

And see the beauty

Hidden within the traces it lays

For when dust and ash

Become the current phase

Surrender seems to be the wiser

And more eloquent way

Than the million fruitless ones

We find

To conduct our ongoing argument

With the dust

4 thoughts on “Dust

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