by Heeseo L., 17
it has always been quite fascinating to me,
this miracle we take for granted,
this lovely, earth-shattering thing we are handed to in our souls
for us to mishandle with our clumsy minds.
tell me, are you breathing?
you are, but only now do you notice.
does it not awe you, how your lungs expand without thought,
how the oxygen travels like a bullet train down your throat and through your
continuously beating heart
and then all throughout your body?
does it not bring you to a silent reverence,
this solid container of your soul, and how it serves you so, without question?
we are made of matter,
of atoms,
of earthly substances, put together to make something beautiful;
something so fragile, so easily lost—
and perhaps that
is why it makes it so beautiful.
for life is as fickle as a shooting star;
so easily made just as it is so easily lost.
we create life with our own two hands
for another, to be taken miles away.
life is so sweet, so fleeting,
and yet our lungs breathe, our hearts beat, without order.
it serves us so faithfully—
and that is what makes it all so, very lovely.
for these lungs of mine shall fail one day—
just like they will for you
and for all that walk this earth today—
and life shall usher me away to someplace
unknown.
but this beautiful container of mine
will flow through the river of Time,
and become
the air,
the stars,
the sea,
the earth.
and someday,
someday,
it shall hold life in its chest once more
and i will live on, in its presence.
Seoul, South Korea
Bridge Ink 