Then From The Dust Of The Ground Poem by Patti Masterman

There's too much history hidden inside Earth
Too many chronicles of mythical changes
Personal tales of lost existences
Everything here seems to matter so much,
Only to disappear, dropp away, like a boulder
At the edge of a cliff: a little more weathering
And it's gone, as if it were never there at all,
No matter how many millenia it perched.
Spectral memories haunt the lands contours
Every spot a secret grave, unmarked on maps
And the levels from the different ages and epochs
Stacked on top of stack, an airless underworld
Lying beneath; the bone pile
Iron skeleton of our decedents.
Our blood filled with gifts from the core of suns
And the saliva of oceans, we sing
For only a moment, till the elements are returned again.
You can never own anything in this world
However much you think you have sunk roots in it
Staked claim and fences upon it
Nourished generations of forbears in the same spot-
The sun blinks, or the sea belches; and it's gone again
A puff of greasy smoke vanishing over the trees
One more invisible shadow that means nothing now
Never remembered or long celebrated
A song lost to the centuries, like the others before it:
Wearing bodies made of clay, we erect invincible religions
To help forget us the futility.