There is stillness in the morning by my bed,
and my hand is stretched upwards and pressed on the emptiness,
grasping for air.
Dust particles caught in the rooms current swirl like stars,
and right there infront of me they form a galaxy,
of shining specks coated in the amber of the sun.
We are all specks coated in the amber of the sun.
Half swallowed by the jaws of the night,
which has since retreated into the corners of the room.
These particles of dust, they dart in and out of the shadows and the heat,
swirling in a soup of contemporaries,
carried upon invisible winds,
each exploding with joy when they find the source of the light:
“I can see, I can see!”
“Silence you renegade,” shouts those who fear the night,
“we are attending matters of consequence,
there is simply no time for your hogwash.
We must act, before this whole system collapses.”
Ah, fair enough.
You can’t argue with determined dust.
I myself have become skeptical of making investments in a dream.
Why buy a mountain when you could become one?
They will never sell you a sundown,
or the universe in your room,
these mysteries belong to you.
“This piece was conceived as I woke up and was scheduled to go to a sales job which I did not like. That particular morning I was stunned by the tranquility of the dust, or even the moment, and noticed how much the invading mindset of salesmanship was trying to draw me away from the beauty towards a day of hassling people in their homes. I felt great sorrow and at the same time great understanding at all that is lost in every second of misplaced attention, and because of this, reading these words always move me deeply, making this piece a personal favorite.”