Where Prayer is Born

With each breath, as lungs unfold,
The moment expands and then contracts.
First the diaphragm, then the belly
Fills and then dissolves to pause—
A space between, where consciousness arises,
Swimming in surrounding thoughts,
Before it flows until the middle passes,
Moves in exaltation toward a letting go.
 
Every breath is born, lives and passes away,
Toward rebirth to new beginning, middle,
End of days floats by, vanishes in space,
Sensation returning to the breath
As though it knows…. It knows
Itself alone, all by itself, yet always joined.
Intuition lives where sensation senses
Something breathing, abiding deep within,
Outside control— within a space
Undefined, yet delicately refined.
 
Here is where prayer is born—
Rises from a sea we cannot see,
Where thoughts watch themselves—
Naked, holy, innocent, undressed in white,
Clinging to freedom that cannot be touched.
 
The moment exists only for an instant,
Then passes— though it may be invited,
It arrives and goes undesired—
Breath itself unfolding, arising, dissolving—
At peace without pretending,
Pushed toward pulsing, living comprehension,
Pure Beauty existing beyond the edge of reason.

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