Franklin Decorators
983 Hempstead Turnpike, Franklin Square, NY 11010
(516) 354-2418

ďA Speck Of DustĒ

A speck of dust settled behind my right ear,
Interrupting itís journey from itís source, toward beyond
More than we can imagine, hope for, or fear
In our own futile efforts to remember our bond
To what promises our salvation.

Released from a couch as I conjured my magic
While exposing itís soul to attain my creation,
It burst from the padding which bolstered romantics,
And then fluttered free from repressed incarnation

Imprisoned by floral chenille.

From the cotton or horsehair once reaped from the dread
Of a sudden demise, lifeís illusions conceal
How it just changed surroundings, plucked for use from the dead.
And accepted new form and the truth it reveals

About essence that pulsates forever.

For it had transcended timeís constant progression
In increments blindness insists we must sever
Into tangible lifetimes, as we shun Godís expression
Of a smooth continuity whose existence has never

Been less than a struggle to see.

Evolving through eons of galaxyís chaos,
Ruptured and sculpted by turbulent fury,
Digested, then fossilized, birth molding loss,
Atomic ideals absorbed deep within me

From this speck of dust seeking my ear,

To whisper of what lies beyond.

                                                            May, 2003