The Breathing Game

I wrote this in August, after having experienced solitude and serenity for a few moments in my life. The trouble with solitude and serenity is that when you have those fleeting moments, at least for me, retrospection can intrude your thoughts. And in retrospect, I appreciated the peace much more knowing how turbulent the road was that had guided me there. Hope you like it.

The calm, it slides under me.
Liquid through my fingers,
and that sun
it shines down on me.
and the sea,
it’s okay with me.

Butterflies and bike rides,
florals in the air.
there is an aura about it,
foreign, but it is home.

for now, it is home.

the sea, here I am.
I’m back again
standing still and observing.
Inhaling. Slowly.
as if it were more of a process

as if breathing becomes more complicated,
when it’s slowed down.

and for now the sound,
that breath is home.

For now I am home.

If I close my eyes, and the world is still.
A wave crashes and my toes sink deeper into the sand,
and it is overwhelming – it’s simplicity.
the serenity of this home.

I will live here in this moment,
in this breath.
Because I can stay here,
and I am safe here, to let myself be.
To disassociate from the surface,
and get back into my head.
Now I am home,
when I am learning myself.
But not in my bed, not here.
Not in my bed.

And God why?
I yell out. And I am guilty. I am vain.
But I’m also sane. I’m getting back to sane.
And what a long road it’s been.

What an uncomfortable hike,
what a wonderful experience,
what an intense encounter,
what an insightful situation,

what a fucking mess it has been.

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