Poem-a-Day, Entry 344--

Unknown Song of the Awakening, #4.

They called it dust,

      the dust of worlds before,

             of cities gilt in polished sands,

    that shone brighter than the Sun herself,

             than the fires that consumed them,

      than the dreams that bore them hence--

             they called it dust,

      a detritious remnant,

            wrenched from the womb

   of our Awakened world,

            an amniotic enmity,

                  amnesic and cold,

      and ours.

            They called it dust,

      yet it is home,

           such as it is,

                 it is ours.