Perambulating Dust

Does the universe know of itself

without light giving

the floating residue of Time's attic

images for its ever-changing progress?

Archipelagos of micro-vortexes

listlessly clamor for survival

as sentient beings we,

hold tightly

our acquired beliefs,

our possessions,

our hubris.

Yet…

Listening quietly

to the gradual attrition of our minds,

resolutely the invisible erosion of synapses

await simple sparks of wisdom’s illumination.

For…

Just as the winged fluttering of the Papillion

sheds scales of beauty and color,

and attic memories forever suspend and collapse

expand and contract,

so too is not man's experience

merely a cosmic quiver of matter,

eventually jettisoning its used and worn

as celestial dust,

making room for future

birth,

growth,

more erosion,

perpetual movement?

Perhaps…

Dust without light

is but a foreshadow

awaiting Time's need

to focus illumination,

to flutter open the eyes

and evoke the remembrance,

the oneness of all matter,

especially the dust destined

to attach and become yet another…