Dusk to Dust

Ray Mitchell, Contributor '24

I have a dream,

same as a great scholar used to say

Yet my dream, corresponding, is

To live in a world


Where there’s no such thing as sidewalks

Where the lush green of the mother spreads far and wide

Where her children and the stars collide

Where the grass billows, soft like pillows, under a weary traveler’s aching feet.

Where the painter’s brush is never set down, ever moving, watercolor cans being kicked around

Where the songbird’s chirps are peaceful, with strident sounds, nothing being put down, continuing the echoing canon in rounds

Where we all befriend the planets

And to have it handed

To us: the power to choose.



Where “hey” carries more than one frivolous meaning

There would be no glass ceilings

To make ease, bear witness to the everlasting changes that circle us everyday.

Dawn and dusk becoming holidays, and as our candle lit sky is extinguished by the crystal rain, and the beautiful dark seeps in, we would all attend and watch in awe as the constellations sparkle, spackle, dazzle, and dance across their vast, vacant stage.



Never one dance staying the same,

Maintaining the flame,

Where we call the sun and moon by their real names

Where the only pledge is to happiness and gained wisdom from the pain.

Where waterfalls will never truly fall at all, they will stand tall, giants among us all

Flowing and showing the way to go, where anywhere I can truly call home.



My ego

The doubts of the world all vanquished

Where we would have a banquet over the simplest of things:

A caterpillar finally growing its wings

And it swings from east to west like an infection

Infectious, this type of contentment only growing

Never slowing

And as the tides turn with the clock, the seas seeing, the world around it beams

And we’ll all gleam, for in this scheme

Of life and death

We all take our final breath with no regrets

Seeing as day turns to dusk, it won’t matter, if we

Turn to dust.