What if what we feel
Isn’t really real?
Thought by mind?
Made by hand?
Maybe all of time
Is dropping sand
That gravity holds, controls,
That simple fulfillment of the inanimate demand.
And…
Then again the inanimate animates
You whether you care to understand—
Breathing its air
Until you evaporate into it
Becoming another building piece of the infinite
Your enitre life will one day have once fit in it!
But will inevitably become why
We revert back to water and land— to sustain more life when we die.