Myth calls me dust.
Invasive at best. A coating of
Insignificance in the Grand Design.
Shaken from the feet of heroes, wiped from
The eyes of travelers,
A blemish. To be washed.
Knowledge calls me Stardust,
everything real and imagined residing in my bones, from
Radiant galaxies to the
Whisper of ancient trees.
I am chaos and glory, infinitely
Life’s perfect piece.