If all we are is molecules,
hydrogen, carbon, oxygen,
and atoms nothing but
random sparks, bound
in space by gravity,
every single thing replaced
every quivering nanosecond,
so you can’t even step
into the same river once—
if the fragile legerdemain of soul,
engendered in the blood of brain,
is merely turtles, all the abysmal,
chimeric way down—
then how,
within this sphere we share,
can temporary flesh be flayed,
or the ephemeral ghost of self
believe the wreck and feel afraid—
how can a phantom heart
be seared, and dumped
into a mortal grave?
–Art by Milan Vopálenský & Esmahan Özkan