I pick up a handful of soil,

From underneath my feet.

I hold it up to the sun,

That gives us light and heat.

Intensely,

My mind ponders these creations.

I cannot help but wonder,

About our relations.

The soil, and the light,

Renew every day.

So, curiously I think,

What will come my way?

Soon, my bodies life will be done.

It will decay....

Back into the soil.

Under the sun....

My mind, so complex, it is true.

Will not believe that with death,

"It" is through.

Thinking of death,

Has me sometimes feeling blue.

My only comforting thought....

That after death, my life will renew.