Dust on the floor.
Etched with care.
By neglect and
total despair.
Asleep for ten decades.
Maybe more.
Greyish-brown floor
saw haggard people
as they wandered
in and out of the old
brass & wooden door.
But they ignored
that ancient room.
The dust lay there.
Rotting in that gloom.
The dusty floor
witnessed several
slayings and thousands
of trivial crimes.
But a millennium had
nearly passed.
That wretched dust
has been abandoned
by man and time.
Solitary confinement.
Sadness in seven
sinful shades.
The dust
smiled weakly.
Craving
some attention.
It wanted to
feel subime.
One last time.