Tell me the stars
   did not fall
Did not shower the Earth
   in starseed
Did not grow
   into the very plants
That heal our hearts
   and souls.
Tell me this.

And I will show you
   the flowers of cosmic form
The seeds containing
   all of life’s potential
The puff of thistledown
   floating, suspended
   by the solidity of air itself.
And I will ask you,
   how can you disbelieve?
How can you say
   that every morsel of breath
Does not belong   to the very Universe
In which we reside?

Written 2020/1/13, Britt Lao