Dustsceawung; contemplation of the dust. Reflection on former civilizations and peoples on the knowledge that all things will turn to dust.
I dreamed again last night. Everything was gone. Dust storms blew through empty buildings and burnt out cars. The wind howling like a dying animal, the sound amplified.
I walked, face wrapped in a scarf. There was a children’s playground. A skeleton against the wire fence. Didn’t like real. Reminded me of models in classrooms. The skeleton had yellowed bones. Fingers curled around holes in the wire fence. Empty eye sockets staring. Mouth open in scream.
Instantly, the skeleton crumpled. Dust at my feet which the wind blew away from me. Crying out, I ran away. Tripped and fell. Dust in my eyes, nose and mouth. Dust suffocating me! Wind deafening me. Gone. Gone. Gone.
We are all dust. We come from dust and we return to dust.
Thus, the circle goes on forever.
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