Wilted Flower in Your Watered Garden

Wilted Flower I'm a mortal, born of womanFull of doubt and full of troubleI came up like a flower, now I'm wiltedWith a gray beard of stubbleThere is hope for a treeCut it down, it will sprout againBut when mortals dieWhat happens to us then?Will the heavens open wide? Will the dead rise againAnd walk in a paradiseUnknown to living women and men?When we die, will our mindsTurn completely into sand?Are we good for nothing moreThan to fertilize the land?Over time the mountain fallsThe rain washes it awayBut for now I'm a wilted flowerWith a beard of gray