To Ash, To Dust

To Ash, To Dust

Is this a dream we're in?

I watch my little dog sleeping
and I wonder achingly,
Why can't he live forever?

I scratch my chin and sigh...

It's easy to see my silly questions
come from an irrational mind
longing for a rationality.

The liquids inside of me
are potent and magical.
So how is it we can find
such simple explanations
for what they do?

None of us seems to grasp
the magic contained within
each and every little drop
of a living being.

...

I wrote a poem while asleep.
Most it went wherever dreams go.

I do remember looking up,
seeing a thousand flickering lights,
like sunlight through autumn leaves.

Slowly the lights became glass beads
hanging from a giant chandelier,
and sleeping right beneath
was my little dog.

...

Allow your dreams to guide you
into the infinite space of forever.

---

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
~ T. S. Eliot

The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust;
it is carried along to dwell in the blood.
~ Saint Augustine

The purpose of art is washing
the dust of daily life off our souls.
~ Pablo Picasso

He ate and drank the precious Words,
his Spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
nor that his frame was Dust.
~ Emily Dickinson

---