When the dust settles



A cloud arises from the west,

Sweeping the desert land in a rose tinted hue,

Bringing back fond memories,

Of a small world that I so dearly knew.


As a child, your vision seems to saturate the colors that swirl around you.

The world is large, as though your irises have been implanted with magnifiers that stare dazedly into the sky with absolute wonder.

The sky is not the limit and the earth appears to be an endless dream,

 For it has land drifting far into the distance.


In this world is nothing but fields of citrus and cotton

Rows of green that appeared off in a land of wild cactus

Where mountains loom over the valley

Cradling you from the outside with comfort and ease.


Then, as though someone had a switch on a light,

My daydreams seem to disperse into wicked flames.

While I was busy figuring out the possibilities for the future,

I did not take account for what was happening in my own home town.


The place I now stood in did not reflect that once childlike wonder, the feeling was wrong.

The land that once stretched out before me in the hot Arizona desert has shortened in length.

What was once a vast span of fields of cotton and endless red dust,

Now runs with stucco, chicken wired suburbs that stick out against the silhouette of the dark mountain landscape.


Dust was forced up into the air,

Piling high into the skies as roars of mechanical arms ripped through the rocky foundation that made up the land around us.

 Large bland buildings with diverse consumer goods started to spread like wild fire out in the little country side,

 Taking over the natural earth with boiling black liquid that slowly spreads over the ground.


At first, it started gradually, over taking my mind with such ease

That it seemed to blink like an alarming red light that refused to remove itself from my vision.

 It came in forms of houses that carved themselves into the beautiful mountain walls,

Searing it with dull pale bricks that littered its body like a sort of fungal disease.


Asphalt speared though the large rocky forms,

 Leaving visible lines that now make a clear path through the mountains body.

 Some roads wound themselves around the ridged rocks,

Coiling and twisting their forms as they constricted the color and natural shape of the land to something unrecognizable.


Sceneries that I could once envision with such clear precision from my youth,

Seemed to evaporate at an alarming rate.

A childhood was burned to the ground that day, and the world was shrinking.

 Realization was setting in and I was forced to watch it all in a silent daze. 


I felt as though bit and pieces of me were dying right before my eyes.

The realization of the beauty of the land,

Was now just slowly decaying before me,

Left an emptiness that would no doubt consume my thoughts.


Over time, items only found on this little sphere disappear into a void of gray.

What lies on the ground with such vibrancy rusts and deteriorates before clouded senses.

Many will go unaware; their eyes shielded by the vision of the present,

Promises of a fair day scream ahead while the silent echoes in the far distance will never reach inattentive ears.


It’s only when the dust settles do you find what lies after.

What I often find in my wandering mind,

Are echoes of constant thoughts that turn with time.

In another few years, I dare to wonder what else will be gone from my sight.

And what other things that will soon drift away and out of our lives.




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