You could die today or tomorrow.
The chance is real no matter the sorrow.
Have you given out to the point of peace,
Knowing very well your own life will cease?
Your eyes that read and ears that listen
Will one day have fulfilled their mission.
But you don't know that hour or time.
All you know is that you cannot rewind.
The freedom is in what you say and do
Inside this moment that forever is new.
Your breath is running out, so don't be shy.
Love people, for that is what never runs dry.

If only I could collect the rain,
Put it in a jar
And take it to God.

Then I would say,
Here, I found your tears,
They made the soil breath.


-- Eleanor

Breath dances along red-ribboned strands.
Memories brush my lips, its sweet touch
Bursts into starlight.  I’m held,
Pinned by the moonlight.
Two hands clasped in promise,
Like a lovely butterfly,
The grass cool and dark
An earthly mirror for the night.

It burns in my chest
this desire fuelled passion,
like a dragon's breath.

The breath
so heavy,
so rough to get out,
sticking in the throat on it's way up
building a block in the chest,
pushing me down
sinking into my stomach,
creating waves of worry,
waves of ache,
forcing everything else away

and I'm left with this storm
raging inside of me
making me numb
making my heart both stop
and race
at the same time
as if it alternately gives up
and alternately keeps trying
so lost in the thunder
that it can't see the way out
any way out

And it's just like us
I just keep giving up
whilst my mind tries yet again,
thinking that maybe this time
maybe I'll get what I need
what I want
what I crave
without really believing it
without any burning hope
just a burning lump
spreading
taking over my body
my mind
and my breath
can hardly push it's way through it
can hardly get out

Just like me
stuck within what used to be us

i cannot seem to find any air
when i am with you .
                                    .
                         ­             .

so
i try to make myself anew,
and then
push myself out into a world where i find that
then
i cannot breathe,

and so when you hit me,
instead of laughing,
i just choke ,

and instead, when i feel water
in my lungs,
i heave
instead of hiccuping,
and finally understand why
i am not the favorite child.
.

me: the embodiment of wind
in that it ceases to exist
at a standstill
as if forced to become a solid
refusing to keep form

[nothing of me settles
not even my stomach
and certainly not my mind
hounding me like hell
if hell had too many eyes
and a scent like sleepless]

in day: the oceans breath in
at night: the land breaths out