The breath you take
is the breath you give
is the breath that whispered
this planet into atoms,
blew spirals of night
into galaxies like glass
and spindled out the flesh
of your ancestors.
Yes, we were connected
by a dark sigh
before we had names.
Our lungs are the bellows
of the Maker.
Don't waste a single exhalation
complaining about this world.
Choose beauty.
The gift will not appear
until you are grateful.
Under the snow, seeds listen.
Are you singing to them?
Why not?
The softer your voice of praise
the more they reach up
their golden cups
of thirst and yearning.
This is the secret:
Creation happens quietly.
Stillness swirls
from inside out.
You could be the cause
of Spring.
Isabella Print, PaintedMoonGallery, 'Tree of Night Life'
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