Tiny dots,
little moving
people;

They only stop
when it is
their time
to drop dead.

Not set in stone,
not gonna
finally go home,
just becoming dust.

I touch the dirt
let the earth
run through
my fingers
and down to
the ground.

I know that
this stuff
was once
star dust,
as was I,
that every particle
that plays a part
in my being
was once the heart
of some cosmic furnace
burning, exploding
and finally coming
down here
to become me.

Isn’t that neat.