On a high mountain pass
each breath's a project, a shaky attempt at life.
Rare air engulfs this vastness,
bathes every node in crystal promise.
Here's a molecule.
Use it wisely.
Take a breath,
then another,
only as much as you require.
Wasted breath
will be your death.
Blood's measured
in lavish cerulean skeins.
Heart's on a string
starving
for just one more
b-r-e-a-t-h.
All the while you scale
nimbly as a goat,
learning to float,
soar and graze
among stars,
each breath escapes,
condenses in the frigid air,
spinning clouds.
YOU ARE READING
Out of this Earth
PoetryMusings on the luminous sometimes whimsical world of human love: Bring your heart to the Garden for a feast of Earthly delights but come prepared for unexpected twists and dark turns along the way.
