to dust.

the sacred road

dust infused edges of wisdom
coat fingertips
far too ill-prepared
for the power beneath such raised etchings.

there is a humility
formed from the ashes of trauma
that splays open
the need for transparent connection.

it is a badge
worn without honor
for it was forged
in the agony of grief.

but such grace
is born
under broken bones
and bleeding hearts
as the yearning of souls
is universal in its search.

yet those
still unblemished from the passage of time
find purpose in the faltered paths
of those long walked before.

living histories
become side notes
as lessons are lost
upon unwilling and unopened ears.

tradition
becomes a trademark
as identity no longer forms
in the comforting arms
of cultural familiarity.

well loved verses
are soon forgotten
enclosed in long shelved tombs
with pristine pages
now lined in dust covered indifference.

until one day
an aching soul searches
for…

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