Like the fish
breathing water,
and the bat
seeing sound.

Or the fire
ever bright,
and the future-bent
horizon sight.

So too, a scent
sneaks in each breath!
But does air smell?
how can we tell?
All exist quite intimate, entangled without end.

Could we, if . . .
and would we, how. . .
see one line, undefined – on this, it may depend.

Through water’s ways,
in the static voids,
combusting joules,
a curved toroids.

All meet at birth,
immersed no doubt,
born back to end,
integral; pure; devout.

So if you could
divide the air
from its self,
how would it smell,
. . . and should we care?