Childhood dust has gone
with only the echo
and vague memory
of the warm smell
and summer sparkle
of roadside ditches.
The is no dust today.
It has all been
vacuumed
sanitized
processed
and shunned.
In losing our dust
we have lost
so much more.
One senior's travels on the knowledge path to Moksha, using poetry, essays, and stories as a means of transportation.
Hiatus
Evolution tsunami crashing
through every age.
Unfathomable speed
broken
by cosmic ripples.
A vast endless symphony
of joy,
disaster,
love,
hate,
and universal indifference.
The wave continues in all directions,
all times,
all branes.
It never reaches forever,
but continues always.
The brief spark throughout
is that flicker
of love, of pain,
enhanced by each of us
by our knowledge that
this is all…
ever.