Inhaling and exhaling,
I breathe my life into being.
This oxygen is not a commodity;
I can’t capture it,
I can’t keep it locked behind my ribs,
Hidden in my lungs
As an insurance policy in case of lack.
This life supporting elixir isn’t mine to own,
It will pass through me,
Like all of life’s gifts and graces.
This quiet and gentle breath,
This universal embrace and release
Is the rhythm, the backbeat of life,
A priceless gift of replenishment.
This intimacy, this lover’s caress,
As my lungs expand and contract
Brings me into sacred harmony
With the eternal ebb and flow,
That sustains life’s dance of form.
If I only ever sit with the breath,
I need never follow a guru,
Worship at an alter,
Or study sacred texts.
The breath will take me to the hidden places,
The secret caverns of my soul.
It will calm me, enlighten me and centre me
In the heart of my own becoming.
And on its last embrace it will deliver its greatest gift.
© Sue Claughton, 2016