Posted on November 2, 2010 by Eryn
וייצר יקוק אלקים את–האדם עפר מן–האדמה, ויפח באפיו, נשמת חיים; ויהי האדם, לנפש חיה
“God, Lord, formed man, Dust from the earth. He Exhaled into his nose, living breath. Thus for man was a living soul.”
Ha, my neshama breathes.
Should it be any surprise the soul of pure music emanates from your nose?
Chi flows like a flame spreading through a vein of kerosene.
It catches your senses.
But emanate through you as it does, mark each breath or you will miss it all.
Dao has reached a dam, an indecisive fork.
Yet, beyond the blockage she still ebbs freely.
It is not enough to be whole, but to be aware of it as well.
The man in the skin tight flesh and glasses inquires, for he must if you will not, ”Are you breathing?” ”Gasp”