Do you know what this is?
"The floor, Miss?"
"Dust! I read about it—tiny particles of matter.

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

The water they would bring had dust in it, our drinking water,
the camps and their groves were colored with the dust,
we cleaned our clothes in the groves, but we always had the dust.
Looked like somebody sprinkled flour all over the parks and groves,
it stayed and the rain couldn't wash it away and it twinkled
that white dust really looked pretty down around our ankles.

As dark as I am, when I came out at morning after the tunnel at night,
with a white man, nobody could have told which man was white.
The dust had covered us both, and the dust was white.

I am from this village called Medingen. It's a dusty place, to be honest. There's no track. There's no grass. There's nothing, there is just dust everywhere,

The natural cloud of dust that must rise when our terrible casing of chains falls to the ground.

The dust we tread upon was once alive.

The dust we tread upon was once alive.

The dust was antique spice, burnt maple leaves, a prickling blue that teemed and sifted to earth. Swarming its own shadows, the dust filtered over the tents.

Add water, and the soil is so fertile that you could plant a pencil and harvest a book.

Dirt's a funny thing,' the Boss said. 'Come to think of it, there ain't a thing but dirt on this green God's globe except what's under water, and that's dirt too. It's dirt makes the grass grow. A diamond ain't a thing in the world but a piece of dirt that got awful hot. And God-a-Mighty picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it and made you and me and George Washington and mankind blessed in faculty and apprehension. It all depends on what you do with the dirt. That right?

pure dust that is all in all. Bless, weightless Spirit. Drink Caliban, push your tongue heavy into the calyx.

Treating the sword blade the same as the staff, Turning the chariot wheel into chaff. Toppling a pillar and nudging a wall, Building a sand pile to counter each fall. Yielding to nothing — not even the rose, The dust has its reasons wherever it goes.

But for all the feet that had trodden it, it remained ordinary dust, which seemed to make everything much sadder.

“Be on your way; this is holy soil.”
“How can you be so sure? It looks like ordinary dirt.”