Go on, push out that window pane,
let the air come in, with all it brings.
The scent of salt; of earth and pollen,
of errors made—but none in vain—
and songs, of those who now have fallen

Close your eyes and realize
how puny our struggles; how petty our wars—
This Earth is vast and will outlast
tyrants, saints, and shrewd savants
yet none of those will be our last

The best of us will come and go
assured we've made a stand.
assured we've left a mark;
of immortality; so brief—
a simple line in shifting sand.

Look up, inhale, and realize
this deep blue sky, so wide and bright
is just as thin as an apple's skin
as isolated as a cast away
with rations only for a day

work in progress…