the dust dances too

b (anima).

anima

where are you?

what are you?

what is my soul?

my life,

what is a day,

a breath?

is it a question,

an answer,

a mystery?

or a collection of moments

shared between heartbeats

and fingertips

a collection of senses

savored in memory jars

the smell

of coffee

of dripping sunrises

and summer evenings

the touch

of paper pages

in old books

the chill of snow

and skin brushing skin

running up your spine,

taste

exploding on your tounge

tangerine

chocolate

sweet and sour

the sight

of colors and light

clashing,

crashing into corners

cracks

and glass

casting shadows

in a sleeping forest.

and what of breath?

is it more

than just substance

filling lungs,

perhaps existence

is found there,

in the moment

air is expelled

and passed

between lips.

(Source: thedustdancestoo)

Posted 3 months ago with 62 notes
Tags: poetry  spilled ink  words  life  part 2  
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