Philosophy Poetry Madness — Dust
A friend wouldn’t hold my hand
As I was approaching death.
She remained a friend, though,
As good a friend as any.
She said if she touched me
She would get it too.
That friends wouldn’t do
Something like that to a friend.
Would you, would you, she asked
Until her voice disappeared.
Disappeared behind the vents
Whispering their coolness to us.
I didn’t answer her, I couldn’t;
I was just glad that she was there.
I reached out to touch her, she wouldn’t.
I was just glad that she was there.
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. View all posts by Richard Q
Love the Dust