This Dust

This is miraculous stuff this dust,
These ashes of stars flung wide.
Powders of moon beams still wafting out,
Silty spread of life-giving stuff, this dust.
Settling in, the grasses thrive,
The spraggly dainty weeds and daisies,
The scrubby chaparral of evergreen-ness.
The deeper deposits root the bigger trees
Whose dead parts finally fall, and the decay
Makes more dirt for more of life
To sprout so fresh and new.
But “The Laws of Thermo Dynamics” say,
Nothing is ever created or destroyed.
Is it true?
If so, then we, too, have always been,
And always we will be.

-jenn long