Dust Devils

Poem By Anita Atina

Sometimes our thoughts chase each other
Like dust devils, twirling
Growing with harried friction.

Clinging to the empty husk of fear,
Gaining mass at the speed of conjecture,
Rising on inexplicable warm winds.

And just as suddenly, collapsing into the nothingness
Of dust, from whence they rose
As soon as cool winds blow in.

Oh those wicked dust devils
Plague thoughts, and
Don’t let us see clearly.

Comments about Dust Devils

Wonderful metaphor and wonderful poem10+++++++
That is inspired- dust devils which cloud the night hours and yet are nothing- and I love 'harried friction'- the sound and oh yes the meaning. And of course fear is an empth husk and yes those thoughts cling and won't let it go. You have caught so much pain so coolly and seen exactly how it vanishes....got a time. Thanks Anita.
yes, they are a mess, forming thoughts and loosing them at the change of the wind. sometimes if we are lucky though we can hold on to some of the remenents and salvage some of those thoughts. good imagery. T

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