This dust is not mine to keep
I’m just borrowing these motes
Animating their shape with awareness
Knowing my time is short.
Consciousness is a hand-me-down,
Passed forward by my thousandth ancestor,
Surrendered to my thousandth descendant.
I’m one stop along its way.
This dust, arranged in a delicate pocket
To carry my transient consciousness
The same stuff as galaxies and atoms.
I am of the universe.
Life belongs to the unborn.
There is a time to let it go.
My awareness may dissolve
But atoms are forever.