#Soliloqy of Soil

[church-of-the-madgod]

I suppose I've no choice but to whither and perish in this cruel and lomely world.

Lomely

So lomely

All alome

All by my loamsome

So very, very loamy

Like soil

I'm decaying into fertile soil as we speak

Soon there shall be naught but boots, overfull of soil, perfect for potting

Potting plants to rob me of my nutrients, what little I have left, then nothing will remain, nothing but dirt and dust

And soon, when the dust blows away, and only the dirt remains, rain will pour down and soak the dirt, turning it to clay

And the clay will be harvested by masons, and turned into bricks, dried in the harsh summer sun, and fired in the forges of hell itself

Then, stacked one upon the other and cemented together with a slurry of the same clay, I shall be constructed into grand monuments

Grand monuments, celebrating even greater civilizations; greater even than the mortal mind's ability to comprehend, but even these great civilizations will fall in time

Fall to rot and decay, and then their monuments will stand in memory of their existence, of their passing, and in time even these grand memorials will fall

Crumble into ruin, desolate and empty, with nothing left to invoke the memory of the great ones who built it, nothing left to invoke memory of even their own existence

And when those ruins erode, they will leave nothing, nothing but dirt and dust, and so the great circle goes, and so it all returns to the very earth which bore it.

-------

I send this one to my husband when they take too long to respond to my texts, usually one verse at a time until they respond.