Dusty

Is this what you meant, O God, when you said that we are dust: Did you mean that our bodies would grow weary and our spirits would feel dry? Did you mean that our banishment from Eden would necessitate a lifetime of psychiatric therapy and chiropractic care? Did you mean that we would no longer be able to distinguish noise from knowledge, or beauty from deception, or love from power? We have wandered so long, O God. We wonder if at last we are deteriorated enough, broken enough, dusty enough for you to save us?

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