Mirage of Dust

Author: Caleb David Duku

The scene is perfect,

The wind swirls around her,

Wrapping her in a dust coated layer,

Of Beauty,

Of splendour,

Of unsurpassed rareness.

Through the haze I see,

Her eyes,

Her lips,

Her breasts,

Each strikingly similar,

Yet different from the other.

The scene is perfect,

Her frame stands out in the brown air,

A Babylonian jug,

The modicum of her frame,

It is filled with dust,

Layers and layers,

Of Love,

Of compassion,

Of emotions,

Each strikingly familiar,

Yet different from the other.

The scene is perfect,

Her eyes easily discernible,

The brightest thing around,

Easily outshining the sun,

They are glassed over by dust,

But still they are full,

Of Lust,

Of eroticism,

Of passion,

Each strikingly familiar,

Yet different from the other.

The scene is perfect,

Wait!

No,

It is not.

There is dust,

Layers and layers of dust,

It is full,

Of Nothing,

Of air,

Of space,

Each strikingly similar,

Yet different from the other.