Seven dates with breath 2nd * 11/24/13

Second date

A few deep in-breaths . . . and then that shift. 

I feel like that bug stuff inside a piece of amber

I once held for a long time, in my hand. 

It’s a dull recollection now

but keeps coming up in my mind’s eye,

like now.

There are suddenly whispers

from a kibitzer voice within me.

I am imagining hot breath on the back of my neck

surrounded by these kinesthetic impressions

bearing down on me.

My beliefs are somehow backed into a corner,

bullying my experience into meaning.

Meaning forces itself to my inner center stage.

Meaning demands that I act out

pressing everything other than that out of frame.

What am I to do?

Breathe another deep breath sequence again?

Okay, I divvy up the deed demands

between the habits of my oblivion,

my burrow of self execution

and this lantern of breath-flow inspiration.

So where in my breathing

is this lantern coming from?

I am lifted and light . . .