Deep Dungeons

Despite a life avoiding each pox,
We still end up as bones in a box.

Buried well down in forgotten lands,
That in time become hot desert sands.

Our remains will wash into seas of salt,
To descend through Earth's oceanic faults.

Destined to be in a volcano's tears,
Of flowing lava in a billion years.

To briefly be in the light of the Sun,
Before returning to the deep dungeons.