1. 8 months ago 

   yoga prose

   the breath filled the abyss of energy, currents of life, flowing into the rivers of me. And she knew what it meant to tiptoe on a smile, the corners of our lips folding a resolution, dancing on the fringes until the spot you decide to stay a while-to highlight.

   feel the sidewalk, see the branches pointing towards the step, awake with attention. And move it another way, into a wooden heart, mellifluously paving the next movement, as he trips and takes her down with him.

   Pulsating rhythm fills the abyss, and i dream about my fingers, the branches of creation, breathing into the room. Feel you feel my synergy. Empty the canvas of filtered dust, shedding the skin of your childhood and tears. Mourn the evaluation, and wake up.

   She told you what you already know directly into the divine; the space between where you begin to feel and where she feels you. A wormhole of creation, the mother of hands and brains. Travel through it as an open heart grips the room; dust flying overheard, rapid anxiety fleeting.

   Pick up your body and listen to the storybook that is your life and was your life and will be your life.

2. Notes

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