A bit of biscuit
Morning sun and silence.
You breathe in. Out.
Deeply. Slowly. Purposefully,
feeling the air move in your core.
A thing no longer taken for granted.
Air. Light. A place to be.
The table settings are simple.
No more, or less than you need.
Your eyes are fixed beyond your sight,
marveling at the miracle of breath,
a thing almost lost, and regained,
the gratitude in you a magical thing
Possessed by it, you thrive.
About this poem
I don’t think any of us will take breathing for granted again. That’s a good thing.
I am one of those believers that gratitude rewires our life for good.
I have practiced meditation for about 15 years or so now.
From those things, this poem