Older Than Dust

 

Older than dust. 

© -MFB III

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quite often
as a child      
I was drawn to
a beam of light,
and would sit gazing
at the miniature world
that swirled all around me,
sometimes to
smote the dust motes
with tiny sputtering
sprays of saliva,
wee droplets expelled
with cheek stretched force
in little pfffffffts!
that caused many of the flying wonders
to tumble rapidly out of
the magic cloud they soared in.
But at other times I would
gently blow them in directions
that they never seemed to be
able to find on their own,
and was always delighted
in how many got caught up
in the wave of something new.
We are so much like the
dust motes in this world,
perhaps even God sees us
as this, in such light
for his creations now
are numbered in the gad zillions
since times beginnings,
and we all go our own way,
seeking warmth and joyous dance,
till we become the dust we used to watch
on sunny afternoons when life was
idle and oh so fine.
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