My breath is woven
out of your breath.
Your breath is woven
out of mine.
Strands of evanescent
pearl, each bead
a cluster of gazes
that have not yet
received their eyes.
The tapestry of stars,
a warp and woof
of seeing.
And you an undulation
of spider silk
from the pit of the belly
to the crown of the skull,
a filament of respiration
reeling in the moon.
Sacred kinesthesia,
braiding air
with light and song,
the gossamer
pull and release,
how you spin a body
from the ineffable loom
of stillness,
how you knit
your silence
into a garment of fire.
Mine out of yours,
yours of mine,
even God is woven
from our breath.
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