Dust to Man

So, here I am, standing one day.
On a street. On a parched pavement. I say.
It is hot. It is Verdant.
With sinews green and tangling
Torsos brown and scrabbling
And leaves lush and spangling
from the recent wet spring.
The smells and sounds
Of a bright summer?s day.
Nothing remarkable, I suppose,
Just that airy, alive feeling I propose,
that accompanies the sunlight and warmth,
when detail spelt from sharp shadows,
when distinct patterns and forms,
cut through,
the fuzziness of wandering thoughts.

Nothing remarkable, You say.

Then, a thought that from a speck of dust arises,
swirling, twirling in the light, it surprises.
Tiny tiny heart of matter,
Free seemingly, yet on invisible tether.
Distinct, independent, and yet still
succumbing to gravity?s unrelenting will.
Binding force.
Freedoms loss.
Binding mind, body and soil,
To earth?s deep soul,
we fall.

Down, down in a delightful dance.
I am captivated as if in a trance.
Now. A remarkable thing. Frozen speck. Frozen thought.
Now. The world swirls and twirls around us both.
Fleetingly we hold this frozen moment,
Tricked from Times thick torrent.
This magical instance,
Delighting in each others detail existence

The world?s spinning slowly recedes.
Time always eventually succeeds.
Once again
you are swirling dust, and I a rock man.
Until next time Time intercedes.
And in that dance,
I will be dust and you will be man.
Time always eventually succeeds.

Graciously, I thank you for the dance,
I am so glad I had the chance.
As you disappear from view,
I walk away anew.
The world has changed.
and I have changed,
That is true.

Something remarkable, I say.