The prelate opens

the ancient reliquary:


holy is the dust.

recipes and bookmarks
in strawberry are falling,
stains upon my fingertips
grasp colourblind for
reds and yellows and pinks

and all they find is dust,
people, just falling away,
crumbling inescapably,
coming apart in my hands, just
cracking, like mirrors,

and all they do is stare,
stare straight at me as they
dissolve like sugar. they don't
stay together, no matter
how much I want them to.

people cannot stay together.
it seems that we're all breaking
at different speeds, and I might
be broken tomorrow, and he
could be next week, and her,

just dust in the cracks, human
skin in the still air, floating
aimlessly until we're
****** up by the hoover
and quietly disposed of.

These fingers trace dust
that glistens in this fractured light
over old frames
crafted with beads and pink glue
glitter fell onto our laps
as we rattled this earth with our laughs
where did the time go
when we held it so tight?
yet it still disappeared, out of our sight  
now I look for you in bus windows
I listen for you in those youthful laughs
Holding onto these moments
wiping away the ashes
of these burnt recollections
from my shaking hands

When they ask,
"Why are your shoes so *****?"
Say,
"There is a thing known as sand,
And it is very abundant in this land.
It flies from here to there,
Whilst getting everywhere."

Heaven can descend
down to the dust
reaching out
to a good heart.
Even the hell burns
doesn't want
the evil inside.

Earth is gold dust
when not found.
But the found one
is only earth!