10 December 2009

Just Dust

Just dust
A man died
He was buried
And he became
Just dust.

What is it about life
That we can understand
This frame we call a man
So much within him
And in a moment
It is gone
Becomes dust?

There was a soul
A spirit, a self,
Breathing, existing, living
A handful of infinite potential
Dreams to chase behind
It hardly took a moment
And now there is none.

Does dust have so much in it
That it could such a marvel make
A man with such uniqueness
Just one among the millions?
Can we just take a pot of dust
And recreate that man
Or blow a bag of dust in air
And replicate the Bang?

No matter how you look at it
What comes will have to go
Twas dust man was and dust he’ll be
Once the journey’s end he knows
We may imagine reasons
And through questions twist the truth
But it always has been happening
For ash is also dust.

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