6.08.2011

Dust

My mind is quiet today.
Still.
Full.
My thoughts like dust motes in sunbeams
Floating,
Sparkling,
Warm
Ethereally beautiful.
In reality, dirt.

Such am I.
Such will I be.

Blow breath,
Sigh even
Dust becomes swirling
Frantic
Minuscule movement
Mindless activity
slowing
again
to imperceptibly levitating drift.

I can accept
that I am dust
but I refuse to drift aimless
reduced to frantic whirling
with every
errant
breeze.

No.

Instead I choose
The Breath.
Life Creating
Life sustaining
Soul Instilling

I do not whirl;
I dance.
I do not drift;
I rise.

Slowly,
Purposefully,
Lovely,
Rising through beams of light
Seeking the Source.

My Salvation.

I am dust.
But not

merely

dust.

Named.
Redeemed.
Loved.

3 comments:

Hope Wilbanks said...

Love. This.

ang klocke said...

I love this so so so much. :)

Madame Rubies said...

I love when you write poems.