The dust is real beneath my feet,
soft, silent, and easily stirred,
as fleeting as the breath I breathe,
as weightless as a spoken word.

Yet in this dust, He calls me home,
returning so to be found.
A voice of mercy, strong and low,
bids me kneel upon this ground.

Remember, child, you are but dust,
yet dust infused with love divine.
A breath, a cross, a grace unearned.
Repent, return, and you are Mine.