Perpetual Playa


by Constance Hull

You will never be rid of the playa,
It turns up when so least expected,
Sometimes,
When you need it
The most.

What unique aroma!
That dusty film,
Grins back on each surface and fiber
Of all that beheld
Black Rock City.

You ate it!
You inhaled it.
Infused deeply into your lungs,
It crept silently into your heart,
While it fed your very soul.

It’s become part of you,
Perpetually imbedded,
On a molecular level.
It will never leave you,
It’s now your DNA.

Art thou dust?
Thou art dust!
So softly taunts and beckons,
Art.
Dust.

True! Dust thou art,
And, unto dust, you shall return.
Ah, yes, dear friend
It’s time to go back.
Home!

About the author: Tales From The Playa

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

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