Of Dreams and Dust

The morning sang like a bird
Flying over ebbs and flows
The soft murmurs of the winds
Slowly covering the endless wounds
All designed by neon lights and running moons
Fading like innocence’s colors
Through the ever-fading perfumes of the night

Drifting a little more with each passing dawn
The rhythm is steady
Like the fleeting beauty of our youthful ribbons
Flying in every direction as we run aimlessly
Like a candle’s blowing flame
Unaware of its own decaying demise
It shines, burning the promises it once bore
Until there’s nothing left to wish for
And the birds stop singing
As the tide keeps on going
In decline and regrowth
Waiting for someone else to feel
Its whirling glow blessing their feet
Made of dreams and dust
Waiting
Waiting


Words: Alex Henry Foster
Translation to Japanese: Momoka Tobari