Again

I inhale as some atom of breath
Gets wasted on the atom of mind
That has to think about breathing
And the rest spreads itself thin into the part
       That thinks about never breathing
                                          Again.
 
My body becomes a fax machine
Sending images up and back down
Raising and falling hearing the mantra
“Everything has purpose and expiration”
       A truth so still no one need mention
                                          Again.
 
Then I grip on to dandelions  
As Science stops by to tell me about
The big monsters in space that just keep pulling us
Dragging our feet until that someday
       When everything, becomes nothing
                                          Again.