White butterflies pass me by
after neon rain.
In summer heat, am I replete
with peace, releasing pain.

Electric humming overtakes;
a rushing hush when silence breaks
the melding sound, from all around,
as I dissolve into the ground.

How swift do clouds drift overhead
to split the sun’s dominion?
Should I close my eyes instead
relinquishing division?

Every portent piercing deep
into dark and sleeping keep;
an opened eye on a world of dreams;
nothing ever as it seems.

A lifetime spent inhaling,
a monumental heaving
when death does not knock:
it has a key.

So I am, as lungs,
a breathly vessel, but
instead, the air.

When I surrender,
(let loose my grip,)
I can feel the atmosphere
as an extension of my breathing.