(A poetical study of what we inhale)
By: ANA NICOLAE
It’s all in the air
Fumes, body, soul
Your breath stagnates
the atmospheres of people
Your body disintegrates
in particles of dust
Your soul pollutes
the heavenly skies
And yet you breathe
And yet you grow
And yet you die
Whatever comes to be
Innovation and profanity
Through clean air you can see
Through nothingness apparent
We are going blind
Seeing white clouds of hazard
Mistaken for cold breaths in winter
Whatever comes to be
Process or energy
Through clean air we still see
Air atop air in concentric cycles
An amalgam of heated dirt
To be injected with sulfurous remains
Of a civilization long gone
Whatever comes to be
Radiation and vanity
Through clean air we won’t see