Dust Bowl 1930

It's not the heat that is unbearable it's the dust dust holds us away from clean air dirt dances in and around our lungs a choked feeling that lasts forever mixed together, heat and dust, slows down all. Time and space does not exist an empty vast horizon, looms and lulls us to make peace with the dead earth above, the merciless sky can't be bothered to cry I sit alone with my mind "All hope shall not be lost" how many more times should I tell myself? Am I beyond it. Do I not hear my own voice anymore? increasing the heat of an object increases its pressure heat of pressure rises up then it presses down, upon us molds us into bronze, and silver and lastly, gold medals. those are virtues of patience and endurance. those who do not turn into dust, turn into diamonds.