If you have spent any time with my meditations or my blog,
You may have noticed the way that I sign off.
Live like dust,
Lit by fire.
This phrase isn't just poetic flourish,
It's a thread pulled from the deeper fabric of my worldview.
One woven from elemental kinship,
Sacred impermanence,
And the quiet power of presence.
It hints at a poem,
Yes,
But more than that,
It gestures towards a theology,
A way of being,
A resistance to the illusion of separation.
In a culture obsessed with permanence and productivity,
I return again and again to the truth that we are made of earth,
Of ash and wind,
Of spirit moving through matter.
To live like dust lit by fire is to live awake to the fragile blaze of existence.
To leave behind warmth,
Not legacy.
Rather than explain it further,
I offer you the poem itself.
Dust lit by fire.
Bone-light wind blows through gravel,
Where nothing remembers its shape.
Ash settles in the folds of bark.
A moth flares,
Then folds again.
You came from minerals,
Settled into wet clay,
Warmed by something older than memory.
You took breath.
You stood up.
You walked,
Leaving heat on the stones.
Not a torch,
Not a blaze.
More like ember logic,
A slow combustion.
You speak and the air bends.
You grieve and something clean rises through your chest.
What touches you is what made you,
And what made you won't stay.
So let your weight mark the ground.
Say nothing you don't mean.
Burn until the smoke becomes a blessing.
You're only passing through.
While you're here,
Leave a trail of warmth and silence.
Live like dust,
Lit by fire.
Nietzsche
