Monday, September 11, 2017

Butter Gravity

Each morning
The body
Is tight,
Almost distant,
Like a stick of Land O Lakes
In the fridge.

Taking that butter
And putting the dish
On an ever so slightly warm surface,
Where time
And that gentle heat
Provide the ultimate massage.

Constructive rest
Uses the same principle.

Breathing, the floor,
And time merge
Into a healthy alliance:
Their purpose
Is simply
To help
You let it all go.

And you can.

Imagine you’ve
Been prone,
Perhaps asleep,
In an Arctic space;
You mull a bit
As you slowly
Begin the thaw
By easing
Onto the floor.

You find the heart
Of your breath —
The rise and fall
So very much
Like the rhythm
Of the tide —
That steady beat
That invites
You to sink
Into nothing,
But soon
You soar,
Set totally free
When you sense
The sun is bringing dawn
From beneath the floor
Through the firmness
In your back.

The journey begins.

And …

When you allow
Your breathing
To map the path,

It’s all downhill.

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