See, when I named this blog The Dust Forms Words, what I thought I was referring to was the way that meaning can arise from apparently random interactions in complex systems, which seemed to go well with a gaming blog. But I've just been digging through some very old writing journal files in the depths of my hard drive, and it turns out that I was instead remembering the phrase from the following scrap of poetry that I wrote some many years ago:
Coming late to mortalityWhich I suppose just goes to show how one can't trust one's memory.
I found I had no friends there.
These desperate happy people
burn their bonfires, and I
like a ragged moth,
stalk their edges.
I have half a lifetime
The dust forms words;
our fingertips trace their secret names
and all of them are Sorrow.