The Breathing Days

In the days when I still breathed air,

the days before 

living took my breath away,

the days before 

I knew my soul was there.

I thought about this time,

this time of no light,

the forever night time

with no breath, no air 

to breathe.

Just dust and darkness.

And I pondered.

Would there be slow decay 

or fast.

Stillness or movement.

Now I know.

I know everything about

the dust and darkness.

But I can't tell you.

Not now

in these days 

of no breath, 

no air

to speak.

Only my soul can speak.

Can you hear me?


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