And so it begins again, the collection of dust.
Every time that I clean my room,
the moment that I finish,
and moments within,
and moments during,
I notice the motes of dust
that materialise or resettle on the desk,
on the floor, on the shelf that
I have just swept and wiped.
And as I notice, and as I watch, I smile – for that is the point.
And so it begins again, immediately, to softly settle in the sweeping wake, the collection of dust.
