
Imprisoned breath –
anxiety.
One gasp
short
of
release.
A mind cell raised on thoughts
and sour believes of me.
A prison!
I’m grabbed,
depleted.
Trapped!
About to
yelp
help!
…
When…
A whisper,
a sole exhale of awareness
saves my lungs from despair.
My own melodic rhyme of breathing
comes to the rescue…
…
A space to expand life, and
a structure to nothingness.
The cadence is my sanity, and
I celebrate the whirl of air
in and out.
Rescued by my own pranayama:
the ethics of my breathing,
a savor of encoded freedom. Yoga.
❤
Copyright 2014. All rights reserved.