From Dust to Dust

I imagine it to be quiet there, and peaceful.

Kind of like the end of a long day with friends, working in the coal mines as the darkness suffocates your lungs as much as the dust around you. But all you find are diamonds.

There are colors we've never seen, and scents we've never smelled; some foreign mixture of dreams and the violet hue in your grandmother's blueberry pie. The golden crust crumbles like the stars in the sky, appearing as clearly in the day as they do in the night, backed in a canopy of blueish purple. The water would always be glass - a million similar crystals bound in the earth that sustains life and beauty. Grass would grow everywhere, and no one would fear walking barefoot, for the carpeted ground would feel as though you were walking on the clouds in the sky. The sun would constantly be shining, but not in an overbearing way, rather the perfect temperature for each individual person.

There would be peace everywhere. No fighting, no lying, no famine, and no ingratitude. No secrets, only mysteries yet to be revealed.

The green eyes would be truthful. The long hair would flow as sand between fingers - elusive, yet ever present. The brown shoulders would sustain any amount of weight charged to them. The scarlet ears would hear all, from the wings of the hawks, to the gills of the fish; from the breeze in the air to the rhythm of a cricket.

I long to be there.

But I must wait until my day is done, and I have polished and presented the diamonds I have found.