The Dust of Tears

How quiet and slowly

Moves the weeping

Of loss

Where goes these remnants of grief

These measurements of passion’s purge

When countertops

Table tops

Window sills

And door facades

Find unexpected moisture

Seeping into its world

Drying

And making its final bow

As dust.

But…

Comes the time

One dares to wipe away

This remnant of time gone

Remembrance hiding

Sorrow unending

When one finds attached love’s death

Nonredeemable

Such is the time

When epiphany claims position of tenacity

Guides the bemoaned

To love not as another attachment seek

But as a mindset of being an open book

Few dare to be

A state of just plain love

Discovery can be bliss

To those willing

Daring not to wipe away

The residual long-lasting