Specks of dust, like a million tiny travelers
Float in and out of lemon colored rays.
Where did they come from and where are they going?
What were they before they were this,
The dander of cat or dog or me perhaps,
Maybe fragments of antiquity, blown in from the desert
Or from the gardens in my backyard.
They seem eager to get where they are going,
Stopping for nothing or no one,
Determined in their own mindless way,
Traveling the beams into the clear blue sky.
Could they be angels invisible but for the sacred light?
Giving just a glimpse, a brief look into their world,
Then just as quickly they are gone,
Vanishing into the darkness, but always there,
Watching us as we go about our lives.
Maybe this “dust” is not dust at all,
But something more, something alive or animated.
Maybe its a perfect world so unlike our own,
One which we could only hope to aspire too,
Perfection in miniature,
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~