that taking hands touches.
that shaping lips kisses.
that barks, howls, groans, and chirps…
that is the lift beneath wings.
that is both scent and journey.
that is the language between us.
defining one inside the other…
tis breath, then….
(that being fire, becomes fire.
that being human, becomes human.
that leaving body, becomes spirit.
that being lonely, takes a body.
that naming god, does not know.
that does not know, but understands.
that being filled, opens and gives.
that giving, somehow remains.
that having left a mark,
leaves no footprints…)
tis breath, then…
breaking down walls imagined.
cracking egos’ fragile shells.
breaking down tribe becoming family.
breaking down difference becoming sameness.
breaking the image of god, finding presence.
that walking the smoking ruins of civilization,
births flowers from ashes!
that screaming in childbirth,
puts eyes in the darkness.
tis breath, then…
yawning with creation’s dawning,
as if it ‘is’!
tis breath, then….

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that called light from darkness,
and being from non-being.
that, spent as wind,
calling forth waves from oceans,
calling forth land from water,
blowing dry and forming.
tis breath, then…
calling male and female to join.
calling trees and mountains to tangle.
defining hill and valley,
both far and near.
calling forth fire from imagination,
calling thought from inertness.
calling music from stillness.
tis breath, then…
calling tribe unto tribe.
creating gods from reflection.
calling souls from dead bones,
naming names, defining eternity,
calling forth desire, hunger, and wonder.
calling forth construction and ambition…
calling forth ego!

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leaf, stone, branch, river…
forgotten ants, snails, and crickets,
spiders with infinite webs.
the wolf’s howl in waiting,
the owl perfectly still.
worms working silence,
the wings of small birds…
waiting, waiting, waiting…)
tis breath, then…
carrying the plague of war,
deep into the ignorance.
walls built of fear,
and the hunger that devours.
draining color, caged, and panting…
breath crying out for breath,
sorrow unto sorrow…
but tis breath, then…
that forming tongues of soul and spirit,
that falling like passion scented rain,
binds darkness unto darkness,
holding sound in echo’s palm.
that rises to the fall,
and falls to the rising.
swallows distance with intimate longing…
calling forth stars and moonlight!

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