But I know when it’s there,
Know when it’s being denied to my lungs.
Can’t taste it,
Though some may insist that they
Know it exists at the tip of their tongue.
Can’t feel it
Except for the breeze as it
Brushes my cheek with a warmth or a chill.
Can’t keep it.
Must give it back once its sustenance ends
And its mission fulfills.
Warden of life…
Though I’ve never seen you,
I know you are there
Upholding my dream.
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