More than one I saw that day,
I saw many rivulets of a sulfur-yellow sludge,
Even small sprigs of an unknown plant
Springing from the turf on either side,
Thought I hadn’t been sent here in vain,
The enterprises of the human are not all lost,
We may be reborn on some moon of Saturn
In some form, even if it’s this: life in the yellow,
An unknown life on an only recently discovered terrain.
Grain after grain of samples of the mud I collected,
But when I returned to the ship, entered the coordinates,
It wouldn’t start so I was stuck there, poor dreamer
that I was,
I went back out to hike along the yellow streams
Until my oxygen ran out. Now I lay there,
Yellow-brown mud with alien twigs coming out of it,
Capable still of saying, if all other words had been cut short,
That there is life even here, that there is future in the dirt.
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 