The House of Dust: A Symphony

The opening unfurls a nocturnal city awash in rain, where pale lamplight flickers across towers that seem both solid and dream‑like. A wandering “eternal asker” raises his hands to the first cold ghost of rain, his voice merging with the wind and the distant sirens that mourn the night. The verse moves through streets filled with whispered faces, building and dismantling stone structures as if the very act of creation were a fragile, echoing song.

From high windows the narrator watches the silver curtain of shower sweep over roofs, seeing the city’s towers as translucent reveries. A lone figure on a sea‑kissed road approaches the glittering streets, his thoughts drifting between the clamor of crowds and the quiet pull of the tide. The language, rich with colour and sound, hints at deeper questions about memory, loss, and the endless search for meaning that will unfold as the poem progresses.