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Arts & culture from the fringe. Back to blog home.

  • Writer's pictureGazelem


Updated: Mar 6, 2023

A dust storm blankets Texas houses, April 1935 – George E. Marsh

I am but dust, and dust will I be When gravity, heavy, wears down and claims me. I am a nothing, for so I have learned: "From dust thou art, and to dust shall return." I am but dust, and wind! How it blows me! But God, He is mindful: He follows me, knows me. He knows where I float, He knows where I fly; He knows where to meet me the day that I die. I am but dust – the dust on dry bones; The dust that collects in the oldest of homes. I am but dust, and though lowly esteemed, My God will command and give purpose to me. For I am of dust: the dust that makes mountains, Upon whose stern sides flow the purest of fountains. I am towering, fearsome, and strong; A relic, a record, of ages bygone.

I am of dust that covers the shore;

Number my thousands and I'm still thousands more.

I am a vast, breathtaking expanse,

Upon whom the lovers in passion all dance.

I am of dust, galactic and grand,

That burns in the stars that outnumber the sand.

I fill the skies and the reaches of space;

A shining example – a proof – of God's grace.

I am of dust – next to God, I am nothing;

But God is my Father, and to Him I am something.

I am but dust – a trifle, a small thing;

But in the hands of a God, it is I who do all things.

How great is the need to make these things known:

To let ev'ry particle know where they've flown.

So I'll lift my voice and I'll give Him my trust.

I'll boast in my God for making me dust.


About the Author

Once a mighty warrior in the pre-existence, Gazelem retired and came to earth to get a body and explore the arts. Outside of Latter-day Saint art and literature, you can find him writing and editing for and playing keys for Michael Barrow & The Tourists.


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