(That Old Dirt Road)

The old dirt of this road
Is as memories confused
In my humble mind and soul.
Strewn thickly about carelessly.
As upon walked and traveled
We kick them into the winds
And around the air they fly
Floating on breezes within
Our minds and emotions.

My mind sees a dust storm and whirlwind.
It sees seas and craters all around.
It sees fires and rains, darkened stains,
Of blood left to dry for far too long.

Your mind may see different.
Maybe fields and flowers,
Medieval walls, or maybe towers.
Individuality is always there.

My mind can see beds of roses
And my pasts like castles.
The winds and seas above which
Floats the gulls of happiness.

The dirt then slowly falls so somber
With the dying winds of memory
And I see nothing for the moment
Like the feeling of perfect sanity.
Quaint tranquillity is all about
On this road we call life.
This road of old dirt and strife.

Down on one rugged knee
My weight rests so thoughtfully,
While grasped in hand is some sand
Left to drop so slowly from my palm.
But caught in between two fingers
Is a curious shard of shale.

Reflecting the sunlight so saintly so
I pocket the trinket and laugh;
Laugh in spite of myself and curiosity.
Maybe it is pure idiocy, but I laugh
As individually, my thoughts float.

Floating as each grain of dirt on that road.
Each individual and unique unto itself.
My thoughts sacred.
Thoughts are never dead.
Just as the dirt on this road remains
Always upon this Earth for you to see
Maybe one day, you’ll take one with you
Along your journey... maybe today.


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