I pay attention to my slow breathing,
realize all life’s a gift. My fingers
touch my daughter’s sculpture, angels wreathing
throughout my bright living room. One lingers
by her homage to meditation: calm
red hand centers silver shrine, inviting
universal peace with its open palm,
erect fingers like sun rays igniting
every dancing thought and action. Oh, Great
Breather, I clearly see now: when I move
with care, it is you. As one, we create
simple objects of light, streaming our love
in currents of energy, drawing eyes
to our eyes, and our heaven’s realized.
Roger Armbrust
March 12, 2010
