the history of dust

 
 
 
 
oh, how foolish  
our youth  
 
swept along unsure  
shorelines by the  
tremulous waves  
of passion  
 
idolatry in the false  
God immortality  
 
believing that what  
is will always be  
 
until that one  
day  
that one terrible  
day  
 
the messenger  
arrives  
and grief gathers,  
a thousand ravens  
cawing and carrying  
sadness on their  
wings  
 
the only truth laid  
open bare before us  
like a lamb sacrificed  
upon an altar  
 
that what is will not  
always be  
 
and our stories are  
written in the history  
of dust