Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Trying to pick the best breath is not easy.
Some are forced, some preachy, and some pathetic.
Where is that pure breath
that seemed so right at the moment–
unencumbered, fresh, ruthless, and brilliant?
Where is the one that came from my heart and soul,
and did not try to console, persuade, and impress?
Where is the one that I would save in a burning fire,
if there was only time to save one?
Where is the breath that I could take
to the next life
to show who I really am?
Oh, here it is, the one
where I stumbled over a twig
laying in the path.
Took a class today in Jungian Art Expression. And thinking about those who are sick. And not being able to help.