Dry Air Every rain drop falls somewhere great
And settles somewhere calm where it eventually
Turns to vapor, flowing through the air
you and I breathe without hesitation, second thoughts.
We don't stop to be thankful that today, today the air
Is not dry. Today the air soothes.
But when those days come, when the air flows dry,
And sucks the moisture from our glistening lungs,
We cry, we cough, we wheeze, we feel like
It would be better to be a minnow swimming in a
Scum encrusted lake. We don't stop to be thankful that
This air, this barren, God forsaken air, is only being fair.
It gives us the oxygen and takes some comfort. Fair is fair,
And that should be enough.
But it's not.
And it never will be.  ¶ 1:31 AM