If matter can be neither created nor destroyed,
Then,
Is it really so hard to believe
that life,
that breathing
operates in the same way?
That as I inhale,
it is only because someone else
released
the gift of
their breath?
That my exhale, the gentle push of oxygen and carbon dioxide,
must be received
somewhere else?
Across the marble of our Eearth,
each expanding belly
is matched by a contracting one.
The shallow breaths of infants
and
the elderly.
The robust inhalations of athletes
matching
the robust exhalations of other fit bodies.
And then an army of me’s,
middling in our unathleteness.
Our panting exertions.
Our mouth breathing.
Six billion of us working
together.
Our bodies dancing over time and space.
Convex body matching
concave one.
In and out.