Still, steady, in a holding pattern
the mind jumps from the boredom
towards what it senses, wants or needs.

To hold steady and aware,
the teachers say keep to the breath,
just be there in the moment

as I am now in this state of mind
that names and follows
that distinguishes between sense

and meaning. Still, breathing,
settled in a body, but hovering here
where thought emerges,

am I the butterfly caught in the net,
the net or the space between?
I am, here, the act

that nets the air, I am the welcoming
breath, the scent of blood
by that breath

that lets the mosquito sting


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