The Making of Me

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Not sugar and spice;
Sometimes not even so nice;
Flesh and blood I am…
a body that will not last.
Just like the junk we buy…
I too am disposable.
Dust to dust and ashes to ashes
has me covered from beginning to end.
Maybe the evolutionists got it wrong?
We all came from dust and ashes;
Water just facilitates our staying alive.
God must have had fun
making mud pies…
Ending up with me!
What we can’t explain
Is that elusive Spirit
living part time
in my dust and ashes;
Quietly slipping back to its origins
As this body reaches its end…
The image of God // the soul-spirit
lives on… returning to the
handler of dust and ashes

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Photo taken at the Muttart Conservatory in Edmonton, Alberta Canada

Amaya, at d’Verse, talked about the different views of the origins of matter and of you and me. Essential elements and forms of matter have been recognized by different people, cultures and religions all the way through the centuries. People looked at the stars and developed astrological explanations of matter.  Instead of looking at the astrological aspects, I decided to go straight to the heart of matter… Me!

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

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Little Grain of Sand

Sand

Little Grain of Sand

What were you when time began…

Before you washed up on this beach

Were you part of a molten lava flow

Spewed and cooling exuding a red glow

Or maybe dust from a continent bust

Leaving the plates washing into the sea

Were you tossed and turned for a million years

Shrinking in time granulated and seared

Perhaps you were a diamond bounced and chipped

Losing all your carats churning grinding into bort

Tossing in the storms carried far away

Only to be brought back once again to lay another day

Little grain of sand you found your place for now

Joining with so many others to bring comfort to bare feet

And joy to laughing children building sand castles

Only to be washed smooth at high tide

You have such talent in your insignificance

Holding sky scrapers together

Or become a walkway for many feet

A foundation of a house or bricks stacked neat

And in extreme heat you become most exquisite crystal

None of which you can do alone

But together joining with others like you

Your potential is unlimited

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Photo Dwight L. Roth