Reverse
Starting with the sound of robins drifting in through my open window, I focus on the ringing of my eardrums and imagine hearing the screech of eagles overhead, then imagine myself as the bird of prey looking down at the field below, seeing the small motion of a mark in the midst of the tall grasses. Then I am the mouse, seeing the shadow too late and having nothing better to do than to engage in a futile escape. Then I am the worm that eats the dead predator, recycling it into the cosmos—oh, now I am a dust particle between galaxies, alone and never lonely.