You carve your name into the ground
As if the earth could keep the sound
You build your walls from borrowed stone
And call the borrowed something owned
You count the years against your skin
Mark where you end and others begin
You say this body, this blood, this land
Will answer only to your hand
Yours.
Not yours.
You draw the line.
You turn to dust.
All you claim
Escapes your touch.
You turn to dust.
Every name
Becomes the same.
You guard the borders of your breath
As if possession could stop death
You hold too tight, you tighten more
Until your fingers start to tear
You say this memory is yours
This voice, this love, these final hours
But time is patient in its theft
And leaves you holding nothing left
Yours.
Not yours.
It slips through time.
You turn to dust.
All you save
Will not save you.
You turn to dust.
Every throne
Falls to rust.
The tighter you close your hands,
The faster it falls.
The louder you speak of forever,
The shorter it calls.
You turn to dust.
Claim by claim.
Bone by bone.
You turn to dust.
Nothing
Is owned.
You held the earth like it was yours.
You spoke of forever like it would obey.
You were dust before the claim.
You will return to dust again.