Breathe

I have not grasped
what is not my own.
When I held
the ocean water,
the deep muscle of the ocean
called it back.

I have not grasped
what is not my own.
The air I breathe,
I exhale. My lungs
release molecules
rhythmically. I return
what I receive.

I have not grasped
what is not my own.
Like a sail, I skirt
along the shore,
across crested waves,
taking nothing.
The ride is free.
The sail billows,
receives without
taking anything.

Like the push and pull
of the moon
that rearranges the shore,
but removes nothing,
not even a grain of sand,
so, too, I have taken nothing
for the journey.

Even the air I breathe
is yours.

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