To any willing reader,

we are fleshy molds
of compacted matter
with an inevitable end
which surely satisfies the mean

of living for breathing
of suffering through breeding

the rib that formed us
will be the marrow to fade us
make us dust
to reunite with the earth

Brother Sun
and Mother Moon
are on the warpath
calling you

it is your duty to

respond
react
recycle

remember we are compacted matter
so our makeup
is meant to expire