dust...

there will be times in one’s life where one’s integrity is called into question, not to mention that the other bone bits that will be picked in the savage scavenge. no stone is left unturned, no blade of grass given a chance to grow, no saving grace in the mysterious transformation into becoming the fallen, no undoing, no mercy. brutally cruel reality to put in short.

in the face of becoming the judged and damned, it is imperative for one to know oneself. for one about to be under the scornful scrutiny of damning eyes, with accusative fingers pointing, loose tongues wagging, faltering in one’s footsteps becomes an archetypal phenomenon. in the threadbare knowledge that one has lived by, somewhat, one’s principled moral and ethics, it is perhaps devastating, even pitifully preposterous in all its gripping bitterness, to come to realize that there is little comfort in that diminutive bit.

insignificant trivia it might seem to be, made to be; nothing, just what it would be. broken pieces agonizingly and painstakingly put together, once again collapse into lesser shreds and tatters, with the quiet waft of the winds. in the still of the night, with the understated rising and falling of the moon, the dust returns, and settles to tranquil grounds, sweeping it all up, leaving no sight, nor sound, of what was before.