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Dust Cloud.
When the dust cloud settles.
And you finally begin to see.
Through the merky filth that obscured the light.
How simple life could be.
How simple things ought to be.
If only we were allowed to see.
Above the confusion that trip our feet.
That keep us rolling in the dust.
The confusion caused blind our eyes.
Keeping a carrot to appease the hunger is poised.
Unrealistic goals that you must reach.
While all the while the goalposts move.
But still the dust swirls and blows.
To obscure the truth and the light.
And just when you think that you can breathe.
A gust of wind throws up more dust.
To blind and choke you once again.
But dust in the wind as tough as it seems.
Finally blows itself out.
And the air is cleansed to breathe once again.
© Conor Boland