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When it rains on me my heart feels heavy with pain.
The sun-lit path to Heaven is blocked by clouds of doubt.
Am I forever lost? As this world is fading away.
Though far from called a paradise it's all I've ever known.

Is there more than this? Oh how I wish we knew.
When the sun sets in the west and we embrace the night.
Is there always the promise of a new dawn?

Born from dust, return to dust. All we created will become rust.
This world will scarcely miss us when we are gone.
While flowers still bloom and birds still sing their songs.

Our Mother of Earth and Father in Heaven gave the gift of life
But the little children have outgrown the need for the mother and the father
So from dust we came, to dust we shall return.
Never to feel the warm sun or the gentle moon ever again.

So you're a poet? While I've tried my hand at poetry years ago, my art form is prose first and foremost.