lodging in homes
as impermanent as dreams:
sometimes, i live
in the crevices
of the stones in your garden,
sometimes, in the cold skin
of your room’s window sills.

i am a dust
longing to rest
in the tiny corner of your bed,
just beneath
your favorite pillow —
like how my fellow
dusts sleep comfortably
in the flower *** on your floor
under the guise of a soil.

i am a dust
learning to navigate through
the intricacy of our lives:
we are
nowhere and everywhere
at the same time;
we are
dull yet we glisten
under the right circumstances:

when the hour is golden
when the dreamers are awake
when the sun showers all —
dusts and humans alike —
with its most delicate light.