Tuesday, March 24, 2009

I breathe it's true


I breathe while I wait

In deeper to anticipate

I breathe to walk

In heavy and dry – arresting talk

 

It drags on what thoughts would disappear

It bridges and stitches the space where there’s none

I breathe a symphony at night and never hear

The steady beat and whistling with the sunken sun

 

I breathe whether I like to or not

Holding when in beauty or shock

I breathe to extend each hour

Though I am not strong or bright with power

 

The passion of my heart does not rival

All the deep down swells of my breath

For it is the origin of my survival

The happy, hopeless guardian from death

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