Between the breaths, while meditating,
I consider the things noteworthy in living.
Listening to birds cry and bugs hum,
the sounds that make living more round.
Between breaths, held in contempt,
I ponder of those things that made eyes weep.
Conversations that echo across death's passage,
linked within those seconds between each breath.
Between, between, between, meditating begins
mindful of the chain of events that leads me here.
In, out, in, out so I relax, knowing which ribbon extends
from here to the end, I must breathe again.
Consider the sounds of living again,
listening to all that gifts me upon its whim.
I force wind from my ribs and hold still,
life is best considered between the breaths.