Dust Afloat in Light

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-vortices

listlessly clamor for survival,

as sentient beings we,

hold tightly our acquired beliefs,

possessions,

hubris.

Yet…

Listening quietly

to the gradual attrition of our minds,

resolutely the invisible erosion of synapse

awaits simple sparks of 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,

erosion,

perpetual movement?

Perhaps dust afloat in light

is but a foreshadow,

awaiting Time's need

to shine illumination,

to flutter open the eyes

and evoke the remembrance

that all is the oneness of all…

even as the residue of cremation

sends existence on the next search for purchase,

tomorrow’s energy seeking wonder’s creation.