Flowers of the Field

Once when we were flowers,
flowers of the field,
we stood among the weeds and grass,
but still we blossomed our yield.

Then once when we were birds,
birds up in the sky,
we flew among old buzzards and bats,
but still we soared so high.

And once when we were mountains,
mountains on top of the world,
we towered beside live volcanos,
but still we conquered the world.

And now we are but dirt and dust,
the soil of the earth,
we rest along with worms and such,
as we wait for our rebirth.