Breath in

If matter can be neither created nor destroyed,


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


              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


             the elderly.

The robust inhalations of athletes


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


Our bodies dancing over time and space.

Convex body matching

                                       concave one.

In and out.

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