Gradually the dust grows on the windowsill
Looking at people going by in the street as it lays still
Hurried steps to no where
You may ask why so but then why they dwell the same path every day
Only to return again the same day or perhaps the day next
Their faces showing myriad emotions
Some worried, some doubtful, some so determined, happy or sad
Albeit bound by a common theme of restlessness
Whereas the dust keeps settling down
So calm and restful, no hurry, no qualms
Cohesively keeping all parts together in one whole
As someone deep in meditation unaware and inhibited of what the future holds
The man feeling restless even inside the room wants to open the window
Not even thinking for a moment how it will unsettle the dust
The window opens and in comes a gush of wind
The dust goes disarray, all particles separated from the whole
Still unperturbed, the dust grows on the windowsill
Calm, collected both inside and out
Looking at people going by in the street as it lays still
Hurried steps to nowhere…
