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