Dust

When I awoke to the sight of fallen angels
lying broken in the pools of their own blood
my quiet heart went about its duty and
my mind never bore the thought of it not thinking
as it set about the parsing of the dead

As the jackals soon began their grisly feeding
impatient vultures circled waiting
to descend and gnaw upon the bones
still we trudge and believe our tedious trodding
will free dust enough to cover up the dead