Chapter Two: The Dust That Remembers
1. The world no longer speaks.
But the dust remembers.
2. It gathers in the cracks of stone.
In the hollows of ribs.
In the quiet curl of once-held hands.
3. It drifts without weight,
But settles with purpose.
4. Not to cover.
Not to hide.
But to recall.
5. Each speck a memory.
Each breeze a whisper of the world that was.
6. You do not remember who you were.
But the dust does.
7. It has touched every cheek.
Watched every prayer.
Laid gently on every sleeping brow.
8. The dust knows names.
Names no one speaks.
Names no longer needed.
9. It knows laughter.
It knows silence.
It knows the moment before surrender.
10. "We do not forget," it says.
Though it has no mouth.
11. "We do not judge," it says.
Though it has no eyes.
12. The dust gathers around the flower.
And in that gathering, there is comfort.
13. Not warmth.
Not light.
But presence.
14. Some say the dust is Her breath.
Dispersed through time.
Left behind as a promise.
15. Others say it is all that is left
Of those who could not let go.
16. It does not argue.
It only clings.
17. It waits for footsteps.
For weight.
For return.
18. But none come.
And still it remains.
19. A cradle of memory.
The dust that remembers.
So you don’t have to.