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