Dust

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Breathe in.

Breathe in while reading this,

you breathe in dust,

you must.

Dust is not just dust.

It can be choking breath,

the kiss of death.

But these motes are stuff of life.

Dead skin cells they say;

Well, they were beautiful when you wore them.

Now they are dots of silver splendour

swirling and twirling in sunbeams.

Tomorrow they join a trillion others

to make a peerless sunset.

 

If dust is our cells, so be it,

but it's volcanoes too, and

proud horse mane flicks

and the demolition of mighty buildings.

It is meteors and comets.

Each speck a wonder,

each particular particle a planet

with its story, its knowledge, its destiny.

 

How can empty air be so full?

All around us all the time -

we move in dust,

through dust and

on dust,

while the sky itself is dusted with stars.

The sun is dust

and the dust in this room

which once was you,

dances in beams of dustlight.

◄ Little green men (Freedom)

Feral Youth (so called) ►

Comments

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Elaine Booth

Mon 1st Nov 2010 18:11

This really struck a chord with me. I enjoyed it very much. Many fine phrases: "Well, they were beautiful when you wore them", "while the sky itself is dusted with stars". Love this playing with ideas & images.

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Laura Taylor

Mon 18th Oct 2010 15:09

Enjoyed this. Some really lovely lines:

"Well, they were beautiful when you wore them."

and

"How can empty air be so full?
All around us all the time -
we move in dust"

Beams of dustlight, also very good. Reminds me of being entranced by the streams of smoke issuing from my mother's mouth in a sunny room - it's the sole reason why I tried my first fag.

Damn her!

It doesn't feel prosy to me at all, and I'm with Quentin Crisp on the subject of dust.


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Andy N

Mon 18th Oct 2010 08:23

enjoyed this, dave - lot of good images for me in this - there is a lot of movement in this to me which only settles down by the end which is very, very clever..

top one!

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Isobel

Sat 16th Oct 2010 18:10

The subjects you find to write about, never cease to amaze me Dave! This is one I could probably do to death. I've never yet seen any I've found beautiful. It is what we crumble into when we die, it is what we try hard to ignore when we are writing our poetry, it is what our dreams fold into at the end of a weary day.... perhaps I'll write my own on it one day - or you could set it as a task for us.

I think the poetry could be worked on to be less prosy in this but I do like the thought processes. I also like the picture which captures the most beautiful aspect of dust. It's when the damn stuff settles that the problems start. x

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