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.
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