Dust

I am but dust, and dust will I be
When gravity, heavy, wears down and claims me.
I am a nothing, or so I have learned: 
“From dust thou art, and to dust shall return.”

I am of dust, the dust on dry bones;
The dust that collects in the oldest of homes.
I am but dust, and though lowly esteemed,
My God will command and give purpose to me.

I am but dust, and wind! How it blows me!
But God, He is mindful: He follows me, knows me.
I am dust now, I’ll be dust when I die;
Yet I am the dust you exhale as you sigh.

I am of dust, the dust that makes mountains,
Upon whose stern sides flow the purest of fountains.
I am tow’ring, fearsome, strong;
A relic, a record, of ages bygone.

I am of dust that covers the seashore.
Number my thousands and I’m still thousands more;
I am a vast, breathtaking expanse,
Upon whom the lovers, in passion, all dance.

I am of dust, galactic and grand,
That burns in the stars that outnumber the sand.
I fill the skies and the reaches of space;
A shining example - a proof - of God’s grace.

I am but dust – next to God I am nothing;
But God is my Father, and to Him I am something.
I am but dust, a trifle – a small thing.
But in the hands of a God, it is I who do all things.

“You are a nothing – just dust,” you may say;
But I am the ground that you walk every day.
I will be bold and I’ll give Him my trust;
I’ll boast in my God for making me dust.
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