magic

I keep getting a picture in my
mind of a rug being rattled
and dust floating magically
into the air.
Slow motion...
Almost dream-like.

Inside that dust, stories, laughter and secrets lye.

Without knowing it, I guess
I've been investigating...

When the memory fails you...

Sometimes you can hear a
child crying in the basement.
Or maybe, It's just the dust
telling stories of all the
backsides blackened
and blue eyes reddened?

This dust is funny, I swear it.
It blows about all through the house now.
It's giving sickness to younger generations.

Why?

Allergies, a reaction to the environment.
The pain in the dust is spreading...

It makes some remember
others forced to forget.
A more cynical person might say
You get what you deserve.
But who decides?
It doesn't land evenly or equally.
After all, nothing about it said fair.
It's dirty and can blind the eyes
Muffle the senses
and put a blanket on the soul.
It clogs and restricts the heart.

When the memory fails you...

There are secrets roaming
and floating around this house.
Not everyone wants to know,
and some,
have no choice to forget...



Experience. Freedom. Love. Now.