Dust

We'll meet again when this world's tumbling
is stilled and your bright curves that tremble
me now are mixed with the dust of all things
that since time's start have fallen into darkness.

We'll meet as motes incorporeal and unconscious,
a dull dance it will be, without eyes to see
your curled hair tossed against the melting moon,
without ears to hear your sweet voice chime,

without fingers to travel your smooth envelope.
I am here perfect in my imperfection,
you are here with me. Only fools hesitate
to mingle dust before dark comes.

by Ray Freed

Other poems of FREED (5)

Comments (2)

Ray if you can see the many dusts that float in a life time you would be going round in circles. This is a well crafted poem and to me it seems to come from the depth of your soul. cheers Sylvie/ I have written a poem also called Dust check it out when you get time.
If this refers to the After life Ray! I am a very impatient woman myself, and I wait for nothing in life. I grab it, and hold tight very hard, for someone with weak wrists! that is quite clever really. I don't believe in the after life, it is just another one to me. Grinning in the here and now! 10 from Tai