The Apostle of Dust
By S.Gonzalez
To exhort, teach, and make ready the way,
Use simple rhythm and prose as a play,
To those who seek wisdom in this flesh of dust,
To those who hear, whisper and trust,
Words of caution, just to the weak willed,
run away from here, stop reading, or be stilled,
Reality is just word play,
and nor is it simple,
What is born mortal,
encased and created,
From dust we came,
our bodies mere Daysman,
The soul will return to the dust once again,
Nothing living cheats death,
All life here must end,
Hear now dear Soul,
feel no sadness,
feel no sadness,
I'll show you the plan,
To reach towards the firmament,
Beyond all mortal merriment,
Reaching way deep inside,
Finding that unique knowledge,
and to use it in stride,
You remain you,
And that is a truth,
Just a change in perception,
a sort of different roof,
The sky is the limit and even there still,
You create the landscape,
and exist in one still,
It is a world where light creates light,
Sound produces sound,
and the impossible made possible,
The energy flows there without time,
energy, space and you entwined,
It is the paradox, the collection of dust.
From it we may have came,
some say there is no justice,
some give it no name,
it is our spirit's destination,
creation and mission,
to reach into that world of ideas,
make it real and shape direction,
Sad as it is to say,
words can not show you the way,
only contemplation and it's experimentation,
can make clear the lamentations,
it is the writer's bane, and the reader's irritation.
