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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Tragedy · #1890573
Thoughts on human life, afterlife and what we become. An old poem of mine.
Dust and Air

(6.19.00)

Born of love or born of hate,
Life moves on, the magistrate.

As smiles grow, so they fade,
Trials test of what you're made.

Time drives forth, moments to seize,
From keen sense drifts memories.

Plagued with hate, greed, and disease,
Our mortal coil dies with ease.

And as we fade here to there,
Our like hold tight our affair.

Through those who knew we live on,
Our work and tongue still not gone.

Formed from earth without compare,
All we are is dust and air.


(Author's note: The last two lines originally read as "Formed by God without compare, All we are is dust and air." However, my views have shifted with age.)
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