Fire and Dust

Of cosmic dust we are made,

To that state we will return.

Rained down by Father Sky

Over endless worlds that turned

Meteoric vessels of creation

Carried seeds of other worlds,

Perhaps long gone, forgotten

Cosmic remnants of them hurled

To our fiery Mother Gaia,

Her scorched skin flayed and shocked

By stabbing sparks and coals

Her anguished existence locked

In millenia of barrenness,

No relief or comfort found

Scant hope remained inside her,

Yet screams of labor did resound

An unknown birthing was in motion,

Within her scarred, embattled womb,

First stirrings of life yet silent,

On the edge of existence loomed.

And so our earth, our Mother,

Steadfast endured such trial,

Not knowing yet the outcome

Would surpass all pain compiled,

In glorious abundance

Of life so richly varied

From the tiniest of microbes,

To the plains of Serengeti

All share the cosmic dust,

Whether man or beast or other,

And to that dust we shall return,

To Father Sky, from Mother.