Samsara's Dust Storm

The winds of time blow ever on Driving me towards the setting of my sun The dust cloud of my being Swirls in ceaseless dance Its tango never ceases But partners change relentlessly There is no dance There is no dust There is no wind And yet I cling to partner after partner Whose forms shift within my gripless grip I cling hard to phantoms And feel bereaved at their loss. Sadness at losing what I never held.