they gave her water and clay
and she molded out history and stories
sitting in the soil for centuries…


they went to bed at different times
but the same sleep unites them

different faces
sculpted on different days
molded out of same clay

Different beginnings
Same tale

from dust they came
naked and not ashamed
one by one they withered and fell
like leaves on a tree
decaying into the dust they’ve always been
the rains came
quenching their names, tales and fame
the winds scattered echoes of their screams into woods nearby
time has erased the ways they paved
but the soil they once stood on
has not forgotten them
and still holds their bones as souvenirs
of their joys and struggles
wrestled from the claws of worms

they have returned to the arms of the dust that mothered them
and the dust continue to tell their tales
to pen their names
to sell their fame
to creative minds and hands




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