I took hold of the muck you view me from
and sent it away with a building breeze.
Benevolent breeze that breathes life to us both.
But I insist before you, so that you don’t choke.
You awoke in muck that I share with you,
found life in wastelands few frolic through.
I awoke to suffocating roots knocking loud,
a part in the sky, to a word from the clouds.
Would you do it again?
Would you share life with them?