We used to go out into the sunshine
And let it soak into our cheeks
With the freedom we feel when we get sunshine
On our work-torn faces.
Or the freedom we felt, for now
The sun is a menace, its light streaks
Across the scarred earth
A rusted dagger, its rays the color of rust.
The rust of our faces, too
We had seen too much and there were
No traces of trust left on us
Our faces like a wood turned to metal.
Or vice versa, we were steel turned mahogany
Enriched in hardening by Helios' smelting
More agony the more he pounded
At the brittle layers of us all.
Published by Richard Q
A human being-question chasing after both God and nothingness. The internet is a disaster, but our starlessness might teach us something. I welcome our constant experimenting with ourselves with open arms, for ultimately they are attempts of life at living and growing in life. My dwelling is in Key West, while the dwellings of my loves are Indiana, New Mexico, Texas, Massachusetts and Arizona. These spaces are nothing. Love abides and love embraces.
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Love the Dust 