Before the first star learned to burn,
the atoms in your hands were scattered thinking nothing,
and now they gather, briefly, into I,
and wonder at the dark that made them.
What is it to be a thing that asks?
The river never asks where it is going.
The stone does not grieve its own slow weathering.
Only we, the dust that woke,
kneel down to question the ground.
We build our names on water
and call the ripples history.
We hold each other against the wind
as if the wind were not also us,
as if the one who leaves
and the one who stays
were not the same breath, divided.
Time is not a river carrying us away.
Time is the shape of the wanting,
the ache that makes a moment gold
because it cannot be kept.
If the rose were never to fade,
who would ever have called it beautiful?
So do not ask the universe for meaning.
Be the place where meaning happens.
The cosmos spent thirteen billion years
building an eye
just so that it could look at itself
and whisper, how lovely.
And when you return to the quiet,
when your name loosens like a seed in the wind,
know that nothing was lost.
The dust remembers.
The dust always remembers
that once, for a flicker,
it was you,
and it was awake,
and it loved.
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141,829 Literary Works • 675,933 Reviews
I asked one philosophical question and somehow ended up discussing the entire existence of everything. I should probably stop asking questions.
O_O
Hello am moon!!
I really enjoyed this peom. I think am kinda obsessed with it. Mainly i liked that rose part, it really got me. I don't how to explain i just like that part so much. And that title " what the dust remembers " its such a beautiful title it fit the poem so well. And its lovely poem keep writing!! Thank you for sharing this.
How does dust remember? I'm just curious from the title,but I think I should do my review
"Before the first star learned to burn,
the atoms in your hands were scattered thinking nothing,
and now they gather, briefly, into I,
and wonder at the dark that made them."
Okay.
1.How do we know if it burns?
2.How do we know if we have atoms in our hands were scattered thinking nothing?
3.What was the dark that made them?
"whisper, how lovely."
This is my favorite line,because I know nobody would say that about me.I'm always invovled in chaos for some reason
Honestly i think that’s exactly the question Maybe “remembering” isn’t really remembering in the human sense… or maybe I just gave dust an existential crisis and called it poetry. O_O
gtk
I love the poetry and the creational depth in this! (I have no idea if creational is a word but i just made it).
I especially love the concept of dust being the first and how it knows everything, and the personification is spot on👌
And I must add the EYE?! Thats such a perfect way of writing it, saying it was built so it could look at itself.
Amazing work!!
AHH thank you!!♡ “creational” is absolutely a word now, I’ve decided. And YES, the EYE!! That was one of the parts I had the most fun with. The universe really said “let me look at myself for a second.” :3