Bowing in the direction
Of the one who plants
The one who created all things
All plants
All stone
All beings
And soon
Will come ashes turned to ashes
And time follows, as dust turns dust
Wheat fields harvested
Kernels separated from chaff
Ascended spirits lift
Rising above gravity's pull
Down below, are the grounded
They cry and now stare
The angel of death begins to cull
Cries go out that the harvest is unfair
But the cry is hushed
Because death goes on,
And endlessly on
With our spirit entering
Oblivion or Heaven
Our spirit stuff transformed
Our flesh crushed
Time taxes all monuments and flesh
Steel mills and great statues rust
Impermanent, lives rushed
We are measured by a standard
We might not perceive
We might not believe
We are released once the end comes
We have no say in the matter
Decisions made by a higher judge
From a manifestly different place
We no longer must overcome
But accept the judgment
And place our trust
In the creator's hand
As cosmic star stuff
And the holy spirit embrace
