Even the Dust of Stars

We have so much in common, you and I.
We both sprang from seeds and
traveled down canals.
Our bodies launched
from the wombs of women.

Fancy that –
we both journey around the same
fiery ball every year,
our warmth and light depend
upon that globe’s existence.

And then there’s this tiny blue
planet we each occupy,
a speck that spins and spins,
so far, not out of control.

When we made our first appearance,
we were mere infants,
innocent clean slates
reliant on some other human.

Speaking of that, the moment we slid
from those wombs, we started to die.
Strange how we don’t like that,
how we must admit none of us gets out alive.

And another thing
there’s this huge sky
which wraps us both in wide arms.
Have you noticed how moody the moon is?
It comes and goes–its slivered stages in between.

As if this weren’t all enough,
there is an infinity of stars.
We both came from the dust of stars.
97% of our selves. Incredulous!

And what about the hearts we harbor,
that beat on their own,
just as our breath breathes us.
Our hearts can break and mend
over and over.
We must stop meeting like this,
you and I.

As if we were not related,
as if one of us were better,
as if these very words
hadn’t brought us together.

What are you looking for?