Breathing

There is a certain depth of breathing which makes me feel more alive than anything else I can mention in these words. its like drinking pure light, and it hasn't seemed to come to me often, or just because I want it to.

It makes me a little mad, which wakes up stubborn, which is silly, but real. I have felt it most clearly when I'm inside my lover. I can't feel the most beautiful breathe I know, without help. How obnoxious of me to resist...

The full statement of life, to me, that I am not alone. that I cannot survive or thrive in joy by myself, and that even in the silence of the trees, I am fully surrounded. I'm surrounded, cornered, love has  me totally stuck.

But I can still choose to avoid the breathe. I can refuse it, or 're=member' it, or otherwise keep it at bay, because I do not want to fully embrace this tangible vibrrant experience stamping into my being that I cannot create it on my own.

Each breathe can be so sweet. Inhaling pure life, pura vida. It isn't a triffle, to be toyed with. a full real breathe can send me spinning for quite a while, and the thing is, this shit is everywhere. Get in tune, and have another one.