Maybe our bodies are processes in time
And time was born
To breathe in and out
And die.

Every breath taken
Is the universe expanding
Then crunching like a lung
And we are but particles
Colliding against each other
Out of desire to exist.

Most things don't exist, you see
Most things dwell in the vast shadow
Of the unseen, unexplainable
Probability of life and interaction
Is too bizarre to be coincidental.

So tell me who you are.


-- Eleanor