On The Edge

This is somewhere I never wanted to be.

This is the place where all the discarded thoughts and ideas gather.

All the unwanted things that come here and start to crumble into dust, to be forever forgotten.

And I am here now.

Unwanted, unremembered, unthought of.

I have not left a gap in anyone's life, I am gone and the world continues as though I had never been there.

I look on the ruins of what could have been but will never be, and it is drawing me toward it, but I don't want to go.

I don't want to be here, but I was pushed and there is no way out.

I am alone, although I suppose I always have been, always on the outside of whatever side there was.

That is we.

There is a sandstorm blowing over what might have been a city of ideas, eroding what may have been stonework.

Here there is no life, no humans, camels or livestock.

There is no oasis, not even a mirage.

The air is full of dust and is coating my throat, there is no shelter.

Will I just become dust?

It seems that way.

I am destined to be nothing.

My bones will join the dust of this desert and I will be forgotten.

No one will mourn my passing, because I did not exist.

There was no love for me.

That is why I am here, turning to dust.

Turning to dust.....

Turning to dust ......

To dust ......

To dust.....

Dust......

Dust.....

Dust.....