OF DUST AND LIFE

It was all but an urn with dust in it, 

which I held on to and looked on for hours. 

It probably had some color on it, 

some artists impression from the far east. 

Some imprints probably, a shiny varnish maybe,

 But all I looked at, was the dust inside it. 

Grey, white or brown probably,

 Resembling so much the dirt on the streets 

or maybe the stuff masons worked with 

or perhaps the dirt kids brought home from play 

maybe the remnants from a sandbox

 or the dusting off an ash tray 

I looked on and wondered if I could tell 

Or place the dirt somewhere it may belong....

I looked on the shelf lined with urns 

Standing grim and silent with no answers to give 

All looked the same but with a label on it 

And I wondered if the dust looked the same in them 

Probably the stuff you swept off floors 

Or the dirt from a dry summer storm

The memoirs of a camping fire

 Or shavings from a sculptors desk 

I wondered if I could tell 

Or place the dirt somewhere it may belong

In my heart somehow I knew the truth

 My fingers felt the writing through 

A label with a familiar name 

They probably had told this to me and was I supposed to believe? 

This dust aint my brother I know 

This isn’t the end of life somehow 

Somehow years and years of life 

Memories, voices, deeds and might

 Laughter, people, friendship and strife.. 

Its all dust you say and I wouldn’t believe... 

So I looked on and wondered if I could tell

 Or place the dirt somewhere it may belong.

Tears probably or maybe not 

I tried harder but couldn’t fight the blur 

This ‘dust’ is the truth of human life? 

Of all the years of togetherness 

Of the sibling love, fights and friendship 

Of games we played and laughter shared

You tell me this is all I’ve left... I wouldn’t believe! 

No way .. So I looked on and wondered if I could tell 

Or place the dirt somewhere it may belong.