A Part

 

I am a part of the world
and the world is a part of me.
 

I take in the molecules of
flowering trees on breeze.

I inhale tree and cloud,
brick and mortar,
weapon and enemy–all.

I am here and there,
this and that
and a quintillion other things--
for I eat and drink the world in,
it’s atoms becoming mine
–for a while–
forever marked with my me-ness,
and countless others long gone are not forgot by my dear body.

And if I dream of some animal,
is it just a dream?

If I think of the stars,
is it just a thought or, indeed,
a thought thickened by star-stuff, itself?

With each breath I take in,

I take in a thousand newnesses,
and the line between me and not-me softens;
with each breath I give out, I give out
the molecules of my beingness,
knowing that when I am
dead and gone
I cannot be forgot even if

the very memory of my name has turned to dust . . .

 

Whew! This is all very heady stuff.
 

I’ll have to think about it later . . .

but, in the meantime,

 

I am content to know that,
as I walk my walk
and talk my talk,
a part of the world,
the world a part of me,
that at all times I carry
a little part
of you.