The purpose of life is to be deciduous. Two fallen leaves,
merged at the tips, form a heart. Every heart palpitates the color
old photographs. The final glimpse of ember is smoke.
A lifetime of respiration is enough carbon dioxide
to nourish an orchard. In exchange, more oxygen.
Perspiration suffices to say there is an ocean inside of us.
All bodies breathe with all oceans as they craft intricate shells.
Forests cling to the earth from which we dig out fresh water.
Our skins will have completely shed a maximum average of
11 times before the last breath, at which point the body says
no harm or tenderness remains forever; I hope you loved me
enough. This is our inventory: a billion times and counting:
a defiant shadow that brings heat, it will outlive most of us;
a strange darkness, it is fully exposed to the sun;
the last time we shed something of ourselves is the moment
we become useful to the earth. Our warm touch will be missed.
By King LlanzaQLRS Vol. 20 No. 3 Jul 2021