Breathe in great spirit’s faith. Breathe out all fear.
So we begin each morning, meditate
immersed in deep rhythm, voices we hear
within our lungs and heart’s voice pacing fate
through our body-mind-imagination’s
thoroughfares to universe’s endless
Yes. What is laughter but our soul’s ration
of understanding All? Our eyes profess
symbols: sky and earth encircling night’s vast
search for light. What are smiles if not brief hints
of truths we’ve learned matching senses’ near past
with memory’s vault? What do swimmers glint
from your undersea kiss if not love consumed
in Mother Earth’s flowing symbol of the womb.
Roger Armbrust
March 1, 2012
