What is this quintessence of dust?
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
1.
Ashen brain breathes ashen prayers.
My God –
can ashes rise?
2.
Dust clings to prayer’s mouth.
I breathe;
Prayer disperses…
3.
Dust too collects in glory’s crevices;
I long
for life, not death.
4.
Water me with the condensation of
Your Spirit.
Make me mud to mould.
The Consolations of Writing 