between the heart and the brain.
But guess who wins.
a deep thought by Jack Handey
from The Lost Deep Thoughts
At some time or other the dust will change its mind.
It will cease to be dust.
It will start over again.
It will reconstitute itself,
become a fingernail or perhaps
a heart beating slowly.
Whatever, let's keep our eyes open
in case we miss the moment
of the the dust's rebellion,
and our ears open
for the small whisper of
"I'm fed up being dust," or
"I long to be an apple polished
against the sleeve
of a child I'd forgotten!"
It might be the dust buried beneath frost speaking,
or the dust of old machinery,
or the the melancholic dust of friends
who believed in dying.
It might even be the dust of moths
God left uninvented.
Against a pile of such dust I have weighed
the likelihood of you returning.
by British poet Brian Patten (b. 1946)
best known as one of the Liverpool Poets
see previous Quotidian posts:
"Believe In Your Own Full Moonlight"
"Brush With Greatness"
and "Happy Batday" on The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
Día de los Muertos:
"A Brief History of the ‘Danse Macabre’"