(From) Dust

by Erin Carr

I-
You-
We are hurtling through the endless nothing at
67,000 miles per hour.

A speed incomprehensible,
A distance not yet travelled,
(in relativity, of course)
Is being accomplished with every blink of an eye.

Of course, there must be something to say for that.
What is it, though?
We think for a bit,
You pace and I click my pen.
There is a statement in the back of our head
And the tip of our tongues,
And it is yearning to be said.

For a starting point,
We decide that we are ants,
A mere speck of paint on the masterpiece of time,
Waiting to return to-

(That’s it!)

Dust.
The dust under our feet will outlive us,
Just as it has been here long before us.
This is the instant of time,
The split second where power shifts.

The mighty giants become the specks,
And those who were formerly specks stretch,
To the width of the universe,
Freckling the darkness more than we will ever fathom.

“From dust you came,
And to dust you will return.”

(So us too.
Eventually.)