Dirt

I sink my hands into the rich, dark earth;
mud pies and gardens are all that we need -
I long have wondered what it is all worth.

A mound of dirt is heaven for a seed;
plant the body so it may be reborn -
mud pies and gardens are all that we need.

We sprout and we die, just like the green corn;
from ashes to ashes, from dust to dust -
plant the body so it may be reborn.

Or burn them, or do whatever you must;
far be it from me to judge, I am dirt -
from ashes to ashes, from dust to dust.

Living is with many boundaries girt;
no one of us can escape in the end -
far be it from me to judge, I am dirt.

However high you rise, that far descend;
I sink my hands into the rich, dark earth -
no one of us can escape in the end.
I long have wondered what it is all worth.