Into particulate (time passing)

Broom sweeps dust of years
Carcasses of insect
Leftovers from spiders lair,
Aged sustenance piled
A heap at the feet and I track
Particulate through my movement
No chance to capture the minutiae
As into the light of old windows
I see the time slip by.
Sun shadows grow long
And the scent of age lingers
In the cobwebs that brush my temples
And in the crevices a mouse’s meal
Nested in twigs and folded into the pan
Into the bag carelessly
They go.
I survey the hours spent
Empty boxes burned like the flames
That reach for the sky
Devouring each old bit
Floating to the sky
Black wisps charred
Rising to nestle amongst the green leaves
Then fall soundless back down
To this very ground
Becoming too,
Particulate of years
That disappear into dirt
Swirling below
These tired feet.

Photo found on Internet by: http://sheliamullican.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/sunlight1.jpg

Words from dust

Nestled in plastic wrapping
Below a stack of not as ancient brethren,
Stitched together
Handmade pages bound
Slipped between leather
Words to dust.
I hold your fragile soul
Gently in my hands
Like a newborn child
Tenderly and with awe and joy.
I turn each page
Losing myself in letters
To who you were
Over a century ago
And I feel the loss through tales told
By friends and acquaintances
Of the life you both lived,
Of the people you had been.
As the ship went down it is told
The choice made to walk into a stateroom
To spend the last moments
Departing together alone
Sharing words of love
I would think, of your life
And the last touch
As you clung together
On your journey home
As one.
A gift I possess
To hold this piece of history
And to discover two new friends
Whose story filters through my thoughts
Leaving me blessed
To be able to be a part of
Holding and delving into
The memory of you.

I found a book, in memoriam to Elbert and Alice Hubbard. I live one town away from where the Roycroft is, founded by Elbert and Alice a hundred plus years ago and they both perished on the Lusitania in the war. To touch the pages handmade so many years ago and read the letters sent after their death and compiled into a loved book. I am filled with joy at being able to learn new things while delving into the history of them both. Quite a joy indeed.
To read more on the two: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elbert_Hubbard
Book looks eerily similar to the photo found at deviant art.

Photo found at: http://th08.deviantart.net/fs4/PRE/i/2004/208/8/2/old_prayer_book_01.jpg