I need nothing more than this moment, the air of this breath. I need nothing more than all the trees, and phytoplankton and countless other biomes that created the oxygen that is the moment of this breath, that is the life of this thought, that is the puppeteer of all my fingers that put all this language into service in an attempt to create a moment of breathing connection between you, and I. I need nothing more than all the fungi that feed all the roots of all the trees, and communicate with them, apparently, as therapists or cheer leaders, giving them added reason to push with such great effort even deeper into the ground. I need nothing more than all the trees, and all the leaves that have perished into this alchemy of compost, that feed the fungi, that feed the trees, that feed my breath. I need nothing more than all the earth itself, the crucible for all this compost, itself not inert clay, but instead, seething with creatures too small to see, and too strange to fully understand. I need not to understand, so that I can see the wonder. I need nothing more than the all the seas that are nursery to all the phytoplankton that produce more oxygen than trees, and that wash upon all the shores that have ever been, currenting, and dashing, and lifting their spray into the air, creating wind and weather, and most of all, rain. And snow. I need nothing more than the envelope of the atmosphere which mysteriously does not blow away all the moisture and warmth, and the breath of wind which creates this, my breath. I need nothing more than gravity, which is the great keeper of all that has ever passed on, or through, or under this earth, and holding it firmly, but not so tightly that all the motions of all the variant parts can interplay into breath, and trees, and worms, and living earth, and jostling seas, and winds. I need nothing more than to travel 1,000 miles an hour in a spin that gives me day for gathering, and night for releasing. I need nothing more than to circle the sun at just the right angle so that the trees that give me breath, can both flourish and rest in dormancy. I need nothing more than to circulate around the sun, in just the right orbit in a Goldilocks Zone so narrow that it would give me vertigo in understanding it, hurtling at the rate of 2 million miles a day, so that we can complete that circle of 940 million miles in 365. I need nothing more than that sun star that this journey circles around, as I stand and bask, and know that Earth receives just one billionth of the sun’s energy, and I, at my point in place, receive one billionth of that one billionth. I need nothing more than that. I need nothing more than that sun star to be in the middle of its life, happy happenstance, when I, too, am in the middle of mine. I need nothing more than that sun star to be cradled in a galaxy that has gifted all the common and rare earth elements to this sun star, this earth, this circling weave of planets. Planets that keep all of our orbits, exactly in their place, indefatigable, all the named and unnamed objects claimed by our star sun are both the brains and brawn of this operation called the ballet of celestial physics. I need nothing more than the sun to be moving, carefully, through this Milky Way at 828,000 km per second, as it orbits both within and around this Galaxy that I have no purpose to need to know, except the need to know. I need nothing more than to be in this Milky Way Galaxy that itself, in turn is moving at 600 km a second, away from everything else, as it makes sure there is enough space for whatever happens next on a macroscale that would give me vertigo, if I could understand it. Nonetheless, along with the rest of the Galaxy, I am living all this motion at 1,000 miles an hour, at 2 million miles a day, at 828,000 km a second, at 600 km a second, all of these so-called separate motions happening so reliably in tune that I am here to breathe about it. Wait. It also takes my breath away. This is all I need, though I am sure I am leaving more than half of it out. This is all I need. Do you think I am asking too much?