The Ground Is From The Dead
P Patti Masterman
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The ground is from the dead,
From their bodies; it's their bed.
The fragments of the crust
On our soles, mix with their dust.
The stones there are their bones,
And the earth, their lasting home;
The origins of lusts,
Souls formed from flaking rust.
The ground is from the dead,
And their thoughts dwell in our heads;
Their ghost is in your eyes
(And the whisper of their sighs)
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