These are all we have.
Fleeting, elusive pockets of our lives, passing swiftly;
coming and going in a space we like to call time.
Just like that one time, you leaned across the table and kissed me mid-sentence, as light as a whisper, but with a depth I could feel,
even,
at the very edges of my lips touching yours.
[I never heard your response, but I felt it]
A small moment.
An overflow of trash spills down the side of what was once a pristine mountain,
a waterfall of multi-colored plastic meets a forest path over-tread by humans.
A single careless deposit by one person
becomes all people
is our world
(our environment).
and I
am the same
as you.
We are the mountain.
We are the spores of litter infilitrating creeks, rivers, ocean, land, sky.
I am the ocean, you are the sea
and the point is.
It doesn't matter.
The point is:
distinction is illusory, destruction is real.