Cycles

The sun molds life into shale, into clay
Molecular sculptures
that mold and decay.
As bone churns to dust,
And blood bleeds to ore,
thirsty weeds spring
through cracks in the floor.

They swallow them whole, the peasants, the kings
The damned and forgotten
And holiest things.
This death begets life
Their pain is no more
The veins of the earth
Bleed into the core.