y – poem (tangy eye)

“Goethe breathes with all his lungs as the earth breathes with all its atmosphere. The man who reaches the glory of breathing, breathes cosmically.”


I was there, when you closed out the world

each intention, each breath, focused towards her descending

your eyes

were shut

but your heart was,

for the first time,


expanding, expending, extending

the tools provided within,

to show obsolute to that which is thought without.

It is true about breathing, breathing brings glory and holds us up to a new world

i was there when the breath brought her body a new kind of color, a new kind of red.

Like peeling the blood orange

at first only that which is foreseen is revealed,

a deep cosmic red.

yet each bite,

each unique peeling come undone exposes a new ray of tangy buds breathing upon my tongue.

Your breath peeled away in layers,

showing skin to the air which gave relief to the pain of your bones.

The breath you first presented us with, all stopped our breaths.

Your unique tone, your unique movement, all from a simple breath in,

a new tang on our tongues.

This world is not unlike the one when I began,

only difference is

I breathe with the collective knowing, and each breath extends the known to the next.

like oranges,

like blood,

like breath,

we are all the same

with a different tang

running through our veins

all held in the glory of our breath.

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