Misspent, the hours I have lingered here, in

Pointless reflections of events that have

Already come to pass, flipping through

Memories like a book of old photographs

Covered in the dust of countless yesterdays

And what is it that I am searching for? If

Only I could say for sure, but there are far

Too many unknowns, too many pictures

Lost in times hidden currents, and perhaps

That is the emptiness that dwells here

At the center of who I am, empty squares

Of forgotten images long buried in the ever

Shifting tides of my subconscious world, a

Place whose portals can only be found when

I close my eyes to dream, pulled along those

Secret channels with no real destination, each

Passage a mystery that may never be deciphered,

Snatched away even as sleep loosens its grip on

Me, leaving behind nothing but remnants of a

Journey that compels me to seek what can never

Be found in the light of everyday things…

END

“Dust”