Dust to Dust

My life scattered amongst fiber pages of possessive paper
I no longer recognize myself.
A particle at sea
A beam of sunlight in the forest
A trunk of one tree
A slice of lumber. now a shaving of wood molded to this paper.
A page, a chapter, minutes of a life, I search for the beginning.
Ambition becomes submission but angels never surrender.
The mistral winds howl creating cause and effect.
An old woman drops her book, it flew with the wind, pages flung here and there. The most worn pages clung to me.
I am the pages, I am the book, I am the woman, I am the forest.