We Are Just Dust Poem by C Richard Miles

In the hushed, still hourglass of eternity,
Sifting softly, we trickle, timelessly,
Fine as thistledown on whispered air,
Silent sandgrain specks of misty nothingness
And distant, dusty, desiccated dryness,
Light as wind-blown spindrift on the storm,
Thin mortality, a silken vacuous veil
That settles simply seconds on the sight,
Then is whipped away and tattered
Wafted by the wistful breath of fate.
We are just dust, poor particulates,
Silver spangles in the sunlight’s glare.
As individuals, we fritter into silence
But stone-set centuries and ages pass
And unending, seamless aeons aggregate
And ash accumulates in ever-higher piles
As, layer on layer, humanity’s concretions
Hard calcify to form a stronghold of pure stone
That even time’s predations cannot gnaw
As, year on year, new particles compact
To build that mortal mountain of mankind
That in unbroken unity shall stoutly stand,
A permanent, persistent monolith of might.