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All things turn into ash and dust,

all things crumble away;

there’s a desert growing in my mind,

where all this dust and sand is gathering.

The dry wind runs its fingers through

The hair that falls across my face,

and I can hear the whispered lore

of ancient stones.

Once deep in mountain muscle:

stones to sand

as sand to stone;

as stone will break this body

then will be broken by the sky.

And so the sky moves mountains

and carves valleys in its path;

all grains of sand in shifting dunes

of a world in dynamic equilibrium.

Microscopic, macroscopic

Against the pale cloudless sky,

I watch shapes of creatures slowly rise

before they slowly fall,

their faces wise; in glinting eyes

the distance resembles sadness,

like the eyes of summer

meeting those of autumn.

And like the changing seasons

they see through me.

Look west to the horizon;

Walk away slowly

and fade into sand

sand in colours of feathers

sand in fur

sand in hair

will all be left at the coast.

One day I will follow.

Waiting here,

The sun upon my neck and back

is weathering my skin.

the pigment in my eyes will all

drain out into the sky,

as I watch the world

watching me

The world is watching me

watch the world

across this space.

The ocean watches mountains rise

and watches mountains fall;

if you can hold it in your hand

it will fade into dust.


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