November. Specks of dust and water

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November mornings.
When the sun-kissed floating water particles
dance their way towards the familiar bathroom mirror,
fervently tap dancing, languorously waltzing, comradely folk dancing,
fogging up the glass
While the unrelenting slanting sunrays piercing through the bathroom window
knight me,
So that a whole new reflection can emerge
when the autumnal air carries away the last speck of water.
Sense of self ever in the making.

November days.
When the sun-kissed floating dust particles
join the whirlwind whisking up amber sycamore leaves,
spiralling incessantly.
Cosmic insignificance and evanescence weaving a cautionary reminder
that knights are meant to serve and protect their own,
and that I better uphold my anointed knighthood
before my time is up,
before the pilgrim wind carries the last speck of dust away into infinity.
Self-acceptance ever in the making.

November nights.
When I look to the cloudless marine-blue sky and am reminded
that I am
but a speck of stardust in the horizonless cosmic ocean.

– Patricia