all the dust
like little dream makers
softly falling on your skin
you breathe them in
a lung full of memories
yearning in low sweeping passes
touched by the splendor
what arduous journeys now press upon your soul
you search the empty trail
hearing foot falls in the distance glow
the scent of the gathering grows
content now in what you sense
your small feet catching pollen
stripped from the crushed meadow flowers
for this way have you come
never to return the waking hours
never to become the ponderous one
falling from the scorn of golden ages
appearing in doorways
hanging on the arms of innocence
you that travel on sensuous roads
waiting for the tasting of something new
something beyond compare
like sweet lemons plucked from a constellation
stinging red lips
a burning ocean of wind
driven by the soundless fire
making your way
down through the woods
full of strange creatures glancing
you speak to them
you join them
and now you are dancing
so let them partake
of your dreams small and dusty
for when the dawn comes
all things will scatter
and you must regain the trail
and the searching
for this is what matters!
Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/17/12
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