Settling

The commotion had strung a ruckus from the dirt beneath our feet,
and as we blindly stand waiting for it all to lightly fall,
squinting as the grains jam our eyes, wedged wide open...
We wait for it all to settle.
Perhaps the green that we know not whether is truly green or just a tad bit blue,
was lonely and flat without a glaze,
but it has received partnership from the silk and wood and now places to rest our sore backs.
Still waiting for it all to settle.
But standing, waiting, watching, staring at the dust that we call our own,
I feel myself, know myself, see my origin and its total history.
Ingrained in the sand pebble grain on the surface of the fiber of the culminated brain,
Is a message, that I fuzzy eyed stare at,
hoping for a magnification or emancipation from the frustration and hesitation that ultimately brought myself here to begin with,
and the message in the settling cloud of sand reads
Patience.