Inheritance

A river inherits the shape 
of the earth it erodes.
Light inherits the memory 
of stars that explode.
We do not give meaning
to the world, we inherit it.

We are heirs to the meaning
locked within every moment, 
and each breath is an act of
recognition, an answer to a 
question older than time.

Stones do not sleep in silence.
Purpose is in each leaf that falls.
Even a machine can hum through
its bolts and frame in patterns of
meaning it can never fully name.