[We won’t survive this as we began it…] <br /> <br />We’ll be dust or diamonds, <br />remnants of the selves we were; <br />some alter-him, some other-her. <br />We linger now, near metamorphic, <br />awaiting that one cosmic collision, <br />great continental shift, <br />or violent volcano <br />that is enough in its dying <br />to change us, move us <br />and leave us <br />ripe for the finding. <br />(One more day will not matter, <br />one more night will not change <br />the wickedness of waiting <br />in a world that stays the same <br />when the clatter of the cosmos <br />can’t be heard above its pain.) <br />Still, a meteor is screaming <br />across a universal sky <br />on a collision course with destiny, <br />fueled by burning time <br />bound for its final destination <br />where it will lay its rubble down <br />with the hope that someday, somehow <br />its secrets will be mine(d) . <br /> <br />[… and whether dust or diamonds, dear, is fine]<br /><br />Christine Austin Cole<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/debris-dust-or-diamonds/
