Matter persists they say – 
not just the stain on your favorite 
sweater or the mole on your arm.
Molecules themselves have endless 
lives in a material soap opera.
This week one’s Christ, then Mozart
then Charles Manson.
That’s what they say.

Descartes believed he thought
hence he existed – something 
his laundress and wife doubted not
his dirty socks evidence enough.
Who would use his atoms next
be thoughtful or obtuse 
a tree, a bird, a slug?
I die therefore I live.

We’re each on loan 
from earth’s library
one size fits all
pretty or dull, fast or slow
joyful or sad.
Cinderellas headed to the ball
when the clock strikes twelve, 
we become someone else.

Relentlessly frugal
earth wastes nothing
in its global recycling.
So too must the light
which animates us
continue its journey 
becoming the sparkle in other eyes
or the ache in another's heart.