Dust

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

moving.

Life’s perfect piece.

 

 

 

8 thoughts on “Dust

  1. Good morning “sunshine”. Stardust we are and to stardust we shall return. The eternal cycle of life, death, rebirth and renewal.
    Myth calls us dirt. The universe makes us a part of everything that has come before or will be after us.
    Screw myth. Life is indeed more beautiful and meaningful than being shaken off into the street by ‘heroes’ and liars. “I set before you life and death… therefore, choose life” and I would add “I choose reality and beautiful connection with all there is”

    Like

    1. You have brought me a smile this morning. Dust is probably my favorite of the things I’ve written, but it crept under the radar of most of my readers. It sums up my experience in organized relgion, fully believing that I was worthless and stained, and my transition into a beautiful scientific understanding of the cosmos and my place in it. Thanks so much for reading and commenting! Have a wonderful weekend!

      Like

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