Seventy-Nine

doing asanas with waters and
stones gushing beneath my gaze,
a yawning morning opening itself slowly

above my head, suns peeping from

between thick, stubborn gray cloudiness-

such meditative loveliness, how did i deserve?

yes, of course, it's not For Me

(nor is it for you)

i'm trying to (nonviolently) hack away

at these barriers, like ignorant brick walls,

framing our lives. our day to day

breathing in and out, smoothening stray hairs

self-consciously in front of slightly dusted mirrors,

tapping scratched metal spoons

against plates and well-fed tongues

but every time i breathe fresh air,

cold, sweet and everlasting, smelling of

eternity and the promises of being

Awake, i cannot help feeling that

i have found a nook to snuggle in

this huge whirlpool

perhaps for just a few passing moments