The air

The air around you only knows to love.
To fill every void, quench every need.
And when carelessly pushed out;
There’s no demur, no greed.

It lingers in places,
Selflessly nourishes,
And futilely wishes,
That one day you will see,
That it shall never cease to be.

You’re busy with transience ,
She waits in penance.
Not like wind in your hands.
Or a fleeting romance.
She’s your tranquility.
Your immortality.

How does it feel to rush in,
To be sent out sans permission,
To see no sense in reason,
To be a victim of treason,
To be there each season.

Lover, you love me not,
And I am unwittingly part of this plot.
I am your air,
And nothing about this is unfair.