Life is a moving experience

I move the pen across these pages,

you move your thoughts from a whim to a war,

we move our food from the plate to the mouth

to our bowels

to the toilet,

flush it out

- and your taxes move it on

to the sewage treatment plant

You raise your glass, tilting it,

moving the water through your oral cavity,

to your bladder

and on out into the wider world of thermodynamics

where the rainclouds amass,

dripping it into your hair

You move your semen and its swarms of sperm

out through your male agenda

into the female docking port,

the baby moving out of the womb,

emitting a scream that moves through the air

When you're dead,

decomposition performs a kind of bacterial compost motion,

and whether you're grounded

in a traditional Western behaviour

or going up in smoke on the banks of the Ganges,

the energy of you is transferred into the world

where nothing is put to waste,

moving on for ever and ever

as the choir has it in Georg Friedrich Händel's Messiah!