A Breath of Air
Imagine if our current President
Took something immaterial for a change
Like a retreat
To a Buddhist boot camp
Where he could not talk,
Could not access electronics,
Or anything Hollywood,
Could not think thoughts
Other than to let them go,
Could not take our breaths
Only his own.
Are they shallow or deep?
Rhythmic or syncopated?
He would feel
The air forced
On his upper lip
As the breath
Escapes his nostrils
Knowing that everyone
Draws breath.
Until they don’t.
Everyone feels the risings.
Everyone feels the fallings.
Everyone passes.
As does everything.
But everything comes back.
To the breath.
For the breath.
Being of the breath.
Always ending.
Always beginning.
Always.
9/10/20