Dust

Dust has no choice
has no voice
Settles and stays
for days and days
’till wind insists
for it to move on

Covering all
yet leaving evidence
of hand
or feet
incomplete

Enough dust
will bury a man
fill his lungs
muddy his face

What we wipe away
is what remains
after we’re wiped away

Dust is forever
We are not.

© The Drummer Poet
08/02/2013

Advertisements

Tell me what you think

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s