The Moya View

Tag: Existence

  • Dust

    Dust

    I find it easier to collect dust than move it around from feathery place to place.Dust is history. It holds the flavors of myself.Dust contains my words.It sits on my mantle adding more specks every year,life upon life on death.I see God in its ashes—He is dust and Dust is everythingIt swirls in endless ribbons…

  • Old Stagecoach

    Old Stagecoach

    I came upon it almost hidden in the grass,leaning against bluff, amongst fallen boulders,prideful and wizened in the fading sunlight, easy to see how it once thundered plains, prairies.The boy who drove it is dead, no longerdreaming of the new town at the next stop,no longer seeing wonder in the buffalo dustingall around him, knowing…