“A sunset shot through broken cloud turning the sky red” by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

The Dust of Heaven.

In honor of Max, my good friend who died, I write this poem.

I am dust

Made from dust

Returning to dust….

But at this moment

I breathe,

I live.

I am son,

I am brother,

I am friend,

And even enemy to some

Though I wish it were not so.

I am brother

To one encased in a coffin;

I am friend

to one who has no breath;

I am a son of the Heavenly Father

As my brother and friend is.

For I know I’m alive

But his spirit has left an empty caccoon-

Why do you grieve so?

And I know words are fleeting

At times like this-

Dust you are

And to dust you will return-

even as the spirit soars

In worlds unimagined and

As yet unexplored,

For earth

Has been exchanged

For heaven’s home.