jonathan aprea

Dyson Poems by Jonathan Aprea

                Dust finds its ways into the homes of law-abiding citizens. Dust disobeys every law. Dust is a rebel without a cause. Individuals sweep up dust regularity for they want to breathe in and breathe out like health creatures. To date humans are the only creatures who feel a compulsive need to clean for the sake of cleaning. Every day and night dust dreams of infiltrating the dreams of humans. Humans do not dream of dust particles and this fact really bothers the dust particles. One day dust particles dream of a day when they will be in dreams on the big imaginative screen. Until that day the dust particles rest on their inert objects. 

                Movement is necessary for dust to see the world however. It runs throughout space and time. A few wars have been won because of dust at least that is what dust likes to think. Individuals move around too for exercise. Due to technological innovations individuals move less than they ever have before. Every day is a glorious day for slow movement. Jet set people forget how slow the rest of the world is in comparison to them. They whiz on by woefully unprepared for the painful slowness that is land transportation. One day flight and land travel will be the same. Until that time the two fight it out at least happy that they both exceed the sea’s slothful speeds. 

                Hearts pump with startling regularity. The world requires hearts to beat for something. Most people do not have a reason for their beating hearts. They do it out of habit. Fortunately the world is happy to oblige. Vortexes happen in the heart. Broken hearts happen too though the heart is not really broken it is merely an expression of sadness. Happiness pumps through hearts most of the time. When sadness pumps through the heart it is the hardest thing to get over. Lots of people try to work through their sadness becoming prolific with their output. Spaceships have made it to the moon due to extreme sadness. Until people get sad enough Mars is not within reach. 

                Aggregating a life is a hard thing to do. People rarely realize the things they consider important. They think they do as they look at all the assorted junk they’ve collected. Behind every object is a value of sorts. Until such time as relationships receive monetary values it is all priceless.