The breath does not mean air. This must be understood.
Can I speak from the point of my experience
In a flesh and blood body equipped with a brain?
What now binds me to both simply can’t be more plain.
My own breath holds my frail life in utter suspense.
Yogic practices surely can do me some good.
Whatever I am suffering is of the mind
Or else, it’s of the body. There’s no other place
I will find maladjustment. I am neither one.
Once I get this completely, true growth has begun.
I can breathe my own living in well-deserved grace.
Can I master alignment? Am I so refined?
It’s a living experience just to observe
What takes place all around me. My thoughts are not real.
Never mind that I think them. They change with the air
And to think that I breathe them could cause me despair.
Breathing is connected to the way that I feel.
Need I learn some techniques? Can I get up the nerve?
I am not the body, nor am I the vast mind.
That which binds me to both is each breath that I take.
My thoughts are not dependable… useful, perhaps
But they tend to play life like a cheap came of craps.
It is truth that I’m after. And for my own sake
The process of my breathing I’ll see as more kind.