Dust

Thu, 10/08/2020 - 20:52 -- MARs

I am older than the sky. I can vaguely remember the water separating from the ocean, their beautiful and amicable divorce, to fly towards the sun and solidifying like angelic sheep.
I can still recall God, in his...in her...in their majestic and comforting demeanor, leaning down to scoop a handful of dust into the air.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Life from a dead thing.
As we once were, so we will become.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741