Finite

 

When we exhale

Things go out

We no longer need,

Which is all right because

Parts of the world need them

That, in turn, give up what

We need

And so inhale

To say the least, it’s a good arrangement

We should keep it going

Oxygen doesn’t come from

An artificial tube

We borrow it

And sometimes

Too often, really

Don’t give anything back for it

Let’s not begrudge astronauts

Someday maybe

We’ll make our own sustenance

For breathing

Though really everything we have

Is borrowed, molecules from

Someone else

Call it Mother Nature

Father Time

Or random, hexagonal arrangements

In the universe

Finally, it’s what we’re lent

Of substance and of time with

The energy to use them

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Moses Lee on Unsplash

Richmond, BC, Canada

Comet NEOWISE over Iona Beach through tall grass.