Our stories of matter should matter.
Stuff to stuff, spun by our own star, spinning together life from dead breath.
We are tied to the air and to the land. We are tied to the stuff that swirls into our bodies with ever breath.
We are made of air.
Our stories once reminded us who we are, they now serve to sever us from anything that reminds us of our own mortality.
Science starts with the ground we walk on. So I share the same stories over and over again.
Turns out the ravens may be sharing stories, too. We are not the only ones aware of those beyond our own skin.
As we forget, I find comfort knowing other creatures will remember long after we've left.
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