Dust To Dust

From dust we came--when will we learn That to dust again, we'll soon return? Rich and poor, master and slave-- All flesh lies equal, in the grave. Bravado, boasting, arrogance-- Are but a sorry recompense For the joys of life we push aside, Just to maintain our macho pride. Perfect looks of face and form Soon, will wither, from life's storm. The only charm time can't control: Is the eternal beauty of the soul. Wealth and power evaporate, Upon our great departure date. All our possessions--our very best, Will, very soon, be repossessed. In humbleness, I meekly state, We're not the masters of our fate. The great Creator, we must trust-- The One who formed us from the dust.