I will return this dirt to Earth in time,<br></br>this mud and clay that has been made a man<br></br>and walks and speaks in hapless pantomime<br></br>of some design, then crumbles back to sand.<br></br><br></br>This temporary home that I have found<br></br>will be in time possessed by its first lord,<br></br>and I’ll no longer linger in the ground<br></br>when I’ve consigned this dust and cut the cord.<br></br><br></br>Yet where will I, in time, be thus removed?<br></br>Will I, somehow, find my way back to you?<br></br><br></br>The destination past this world’s unproved,<br></br>and we, for now, are merely passing through.<br></br><br></br>This body is no more than a conveyance:<br></br>to locate you, and then rest in abeyance.<br></br>
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