Scattered

Air silt memories Gathered on soil Dirty heaps of fear and smiles, Rages and heartache. Burned to nothing, turned to nothing. Save this; This is mine- Cupped hands Hold you near me. This bit of flesh dust that is So much more, and so much less, Father. Embraced with weary hands. Dirt smudged, teary eyes. His flesh stained mine. I looked down through dust, Through hands, Through memory, Through years. A balmy night, gathered 'round Sparks and blazing. Wood smoke clothing, Face burning, Eyes stinging. A fire more for wonder, Than for warmth. I always loved fire. But fire never lasts, It burns and consumes, Till it devours itself. Utterly like and unlike The great worm of time. Is eternal destruction the Same as infinity? "Dreaming is the same as dwelling. The past is no more real than the future." His memory voice condemning. How can I not look back? Memory is all that keeps Him real, here with me. Makes this dust so much more Than filth, so much more Than a stain that the earth Can' t see, can't feel. This is mine, much more than his.