Dust Josiah Hamm Jul 27, ‘24

What is new in this cemetery queue? What is novel on this big blue marble?

I hold dust in my hand, like miniscule grains of sand the dust saw me live, and will see me die and my parents, and theirs, and theirs, and theirs

the dust has seen the night sky fly by Light and dark, the cycle sighs

Kings and kingdoms rise and fall Kings turn dust into bricks Kings turn bricks into dust In the end, only dust remains

Men toil over their work they draw, and plan, and build, and fix they sew, and reap, and heal, and kill Then to the dust, to be forgotten

What is new in this cemetery queue? What is novel on this big blue marble?

trees grow, and fall, and rot, and grow again the rot will break it all down into dust

the strong oppress the weak they aren’t evil, their future’s just as bleak they’ll be joined together in the dust

the powerful control the powerless the scepter changes shape, but the name of the game remains the same even scepters are lost to the dust

books are written and burned Knowledge accepted and spurned But the real truth has never changed once Every fact and err was already there — just buried deep in the dust So hey, what’s new in this funeral queue? Tell me what’s novel on this big blue marble?

Nothing is new in this funeral queue Nothing is novel on this big blue marble

Look above, look out, look through this material plane For everything here is dust