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The Beauty of Breath

lays in it's
faithful existence.


Born into strange
body,
bloody yet unbound,
tied to this world
in breath,
soon to forget this
simple 
act of grace. 
The one breath
without which 
no other would take
place. 
To breathe in salt
sea tang, 
or field of flowers
fresh,
trees of green that
wave, 
as if breath to
breath,
them to us,
as we to them,
and in the simple
act 
of consecrated
breath, 
to recognise that 
which exists,
alongside, 
as within. 
In breath we are
found, 
and if a religion
you must,
then kneel to
breath,
sacrifice time 
on the alter of
patience,
be silent awareness 
and behold,
one faithful breath.

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