we are but dust and ash
we are but souls breathed into a body
we are but divine breath, strained through a mask
we are but dust and ash
which in this moment means shards of sky
as the earth has inverted through flame, overhead
stole the place of the heavens
the dimension of time
cuz "sure as the sun rises"
has been revealed a lie
we are but dust and ash
it says
but then why does it so hurt to breathe
if from this we have come, and to this we return
then why when they scratch down our throats does it burn
how can it hurt to imbibe our own essence
why isn't it cause for celebration when *our dust's* effervescent
when our ash covers miles
when our earth conquers sky
if we are but dust and ashes - then why?
.
as the sun rises red, or worse, doesn't rise at all
and covers asphalt to hilltop in that gold-orange pall
we must remember the promise Hashem chose to speak
to the ark after flood, to Noah and beast:
that summer and winter, day and night shall not cease
but as *we* cough up our waste-smoke, we've watched summer creep
into winter and yesterday, night never unleashed
it's hold on the day, how could Hashem keep
her promise, her word, when we've shown ourselves cheap
when we've renegged the bargain
that though we are but earth
around us a garden
would spring from the soil
and from it we'd toil
not carbon, not oil
but barley and grape
wheat stalk and root
that though you are *dust* you are ash
this world was created for you
that though your body is earth,
your lungs hold the sky.
that while you are clay wrapped in skin
there's a soul breathed within
and from that arose this holy obligation
to steward this treasure across generation
and through that transcend our shackles and station
and reach to the level of divine aspiration
but
our obsession with possession
and attraction to extraction
has focused all our passions
on dust-and-ash actions
that at end of them's led, to the sky turning earth
we've lost *such* sight of heaven, that now she's cover-ed
and as we build *Towers* of Babel and monuments of stone
to in vain try avoid what is already known
that oblivion awaits us, we've been repaid in kind
by a justice if not righteous then surely divine
the reason it hurts to breath in the air
is because dust and ash, are not all we should bear
our bodies are dust but our lungs carry air
we are of earth but there's god inside there
which means the power to create and the power to destroy
the power to reject Her, or put ourselves in her employ
meaning *she'll* rise the sun and with grace let it set
we just have to listen, and steward, her garden, and breath