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I would rather be a splinter of dust
Hurtling through space and time
Than an opinion settled and grown
In the mind of men -they call it god’s truth
And mow down God’s children left and right.
In motion was passage of light
But too soon I am snuffed out by cold breath
Of earth grown settled in ways.
Rather than this corruption
I would rather be dust, -not knowing
its station nor its destination,
It blows hither and thither
And pass from wakeful sleep to dream.
In that narrow divide we pass over
The living one day must for death shudder;
Where the blessed and the damned unite
Under the White Throne all souls quake with fear.