Words of Dust

The pulse of my soul flows slow and deep

Gentle drops of love to seep

Through these silver bones, this skin

In life expose the life within

Through words of dust—and golden straw

Reveal the hope inside—so raw

The truth I see in every heart:

That every soul is worked of art

That those who beg upon the street

Are merely those cruel Life has beat

That she with perfect roundness there

Is carry’ng Fortune’s helpless heir

That he who robs, who kills in ire

Who acts in lust, who plays with fire

Who sometime seen appears too lost

Is broken, poor, has paid the cost

That those so hard to view in love

Are loved so dear by Him Above

And thus deserve more care than we

Can ever give, can ever see

That each of us, though foul appearing

Cannot deserve their judgment, searing

This truth flows out, to grant relief

Outside this heart of gold belief


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