Dust
Freestyle Poem
I am from the dust,
like you.
When I dance
the living clay admires
me as I laugh and laugh
and go along my way!
I am from the dust,
like you.
When I dress, I do
impress-a marking of
my ways.
I am from the dust,
like you.
My acts are patterned
plays alighting fools
their dusty fray,
I am from the dust,
like you.
Striving in hard
and acid displays,
Thrilling a visible you
as I in splendor lay.
I am from the dust,
like you.
So that fears fill
my years and blot my
many tears with
poverty my stilted
and insufficient pay.
I am from the dust,
I wash and the earth
has its say- will ever
be my stay.
I am dust that I can
no longer deny but
still my spirit does
opine and ask to have
its proper time.
When upon my sleeping
breast my head does
bow indeed to rest,
I find that I am yet
defined by an endless
and empty quest.
T’is known and oft’
suggests that I am
betrayed at best,
For it’s as I have
surmised, my scheming
is an unabated mess.
Surprise, Surprise,
I must abide and
cannot hide from the
Maker’s watchful eyes.
To His eternal rest
does my soul aspire
to hear an angelic choir,
is all that is required,
Bemoaned and thus confessed
that He has made me wondrous,
daring not to jest but with
increasing zest I seek His
solace and majestic address
so that I might reside and
want to convalesce in His
sublime, inexpressible and
timeless Holiness!
more by DEBRA BISHOP
