In the end we all return to dust as humanity stumbles along with the dust of infinity at our heels as our shared humanity becomes a mist, tangibly visible or invisible to mankind whose only real journey is confronting their humanity.
My father survived the Turkish genocide of Armenians during WWI and as a 10 year old he buried his grandmother in a ditch as she told him to do and then escape in the night from their concentration camp which he did and roamed Turkey doing odd jobs and stealing food. He met another Armenian boy and they traveled together until the British Army briefly took over Turkey after WWI and brought in the Red Cross who facilitated his departure to relatives in America. After all he had been through he embraced humanity and always tried to connect with people which served him well as he became a successful businessman.
True poem, Stephen, thanks for sharing your poetic care.
Lucky you as I was/am, to have an enlightened mother.
Get free, stay free.
In the end we all return to dust as humanity stumbles along with the dust of infinity at our heels as our shared humanity becomes a mist, tangibly visible or invisible to mankind whose only real journey is confronting their humanity.
My father survived the Turkish genocide of Armenians during WWI and as a 10 year old he buried his grandmother in a ditch as she told him to do and then escape in the night from their concentration camp which he did and roamed Turkey doing odd jobs and stealing food. He met another Armenian boy and they traveled together until the British Army briefly took over Turkey after WWI and brought in the Red Cross who facilitated his departure to relatives in America. After all he had been through he embraced humanity and always tried to connect with people which served him well as he became a successful businessman.
What extraordinary sentiments and a wonderful tribute.