This handful of dust, we have this to remember
Every kind of life returns to the state of nothing
By eating flesh or green, dust is our destination
The rich man or poor man, blessed or the cursed
Leaves us as dust, whatever things we've done
We have nothing that keeps us upon this earth
Only memories and legacies that get left behind
From our lives and by those we do love or hurt
It is the rare life that has reason to be recorded
Ecclesiastes 3:20 (NIV) 20 All go to the same place;
all come from dust, and to dust all return.
