Breath
I hear my cry echo back
from a world just coming into focus.
Wondrous distraction!
It is this turning of the head that defines my obsession.
I fill my lungs again and again
pouring out the contents of spirit
in gasps, involuntary exhales, in calculated utterances.
And, again, to breathe; between.
It is the sharp, the deep intake that excites me.
Like a tempest
swirled in dream
with one great Eye, centered, seeing;
the rush of wind upon the page is
greater than the image
there.