Passed Particle...

The particle—carbon it was—an atom that made a molecule, that made cellulose, that made a part, that made the whole...of a trunk of a tree. Toppling 300 million seasons ago, to be entombed by brothers, and megatons of space dust.

Time.

The particle—carbon it is—an atom that makes a molecule, that makes crude oil, that meets drill; then refinery that makes diesel. Ingested thenceforth by engine, and fired to propel humanity onwards. Till spat from exhaust.

The particle—an agent it’ll become—to lodge in lung, invoking small mutation, to have the biggest implication.

In time.

Patricia—she was—carbon she is.

The Crematorium’s.