Collecting Dust

The whirlwinds collect dust and pile them into the centre

The cyclones may wreak havoc, but what is the beauty 

Staggered and shattered pieces aspiring and hoping to reach winter

Each shard noticing the same edge in the other's absurdity

Over time, the sharp edges wither and merge together

Collecting the same dust and wombing the space

Bonding and hardening into a bickering brother

Unkempt and stoic on the outside with a small swollen face

Madonna on the rocks virginal scathed

Halos belittled into graves in the eye of the storm

Torrential tormenting rains under the shower that bathed

Breathe young child, for your medals will become the reform

Chipped and chipped into look-alike statuettes

Only the crying artist knows no two pieces can ever be the same

Beaten into shape the batter of the bread bakes and lets

The hungry stomach soak in the misery of the forgotten and the tame

Blue eyes and brown eyes of the dusting storm and cyclone

Cawing into the swaying paperlike malachite

Shiny and reflecting the sun's hazed gentleness unseen horn

Finally, the seeds bloom from the collected dust reaching for the nesting kite