Butter Gravity

Each morning

The body

Is tight,

Almost distant,

Like a stick of Land O Lakes

In the fridge.

Imagine

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.

Eventually,

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.