Dirt
If dirt is bad, then so are we and so is history,
For all of us were dirty once, as dirty as can be.
Our milieu was the tillage where we bent and harrowed clods
And out of dirt we made our dirty dwellings and our gods.
Soon enough we had a language full of many dirty words
As common terms for intercourse and blasphemies and turds.
We aired our dirty laundry for our tribal mates to view;
It really didn’t matter much, for they were dirty too.
And eventually we found that the constituents of dirt
Could make you ill or shame you with the collar of your shirt.
We also tried to cleanse ourselves of dirty deed and thought;
It helped a bit with nasal things; the rest was all for naught.
It is the dirt we’re risen from and try to rise the more,
But frankly speaking we remain as dirty as before.
If shedding dirt’s a lesson that we civil folk must learn,
We should remember that the dirt is where we shall return.
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