Dust Settles

Source: Abdiel Ibarra, via Unsplash (Unsplash License)

Dust settles everywhere I cannot see,

over the years as the night sky grows darker.

I rose from the dust once before,

yet I am not immune to collapsing into dust again.

Stardust whirls around

in the expanse of the universe,

both beyond my imagination

and the darkest side of me.

Dust covers my entire body

over the years as I’ve grown weary of rage,

thirsty from lack of water from the fountains

of my youth that used to shower me with abundance

of time, vitality, and space.

Am I wiser or more foolish for this?

Life is brittle and fragile.

It will transform back into dust

and I, a helpless body with no bones

to help it stand, no more bleeding,

erratically beating heart to spill.

But I keep on living and tell myself

not to worry because the inevitable

will happen — eventually.

All I ever want to do is enjoy my life,

before I sink into the ground

and see my life flash before my eyes

because I know how heartbreaking it is

to postpone everything for a century later

without the promise of a century.