breath

Would a harsh word ever fall from lips which now breathed only love? Would the step whose lightest footfall now made her heart leap, ever sound in her ear like a death knell?

And now, for something completely the same:Wasted time and wasted breath,'s what I'll make, until my death.Helping people 'd be as good,but I wouldn't, if I could.For the few that help deserve,have no need, or not the nerve,help from strangers to accept,plus from mine a few have wept.Wept from joy, or from despair,or just from my vengeful stare.Ways I have, to look at stupid,make them see I am not Cupid.Make them see they are in error,for of truth I am a bearer.Most decide I'm just a bear,mauling at them, - like I care.

Come back to me.Where have you gone?And why so long?I miss the star below your lip,the constellation on your chest.I miss your ways,how you net butter-flying words and release themfor others to enjoy.I miss your tenderness,the sweetness of your breathand the song of your voice.I miss howyou worship me.Come back to me once more.Why did you go?And whatever for?The heavens plotted against us.The clouds came andpissed on our lives.The smell of charged particlesstill lingers in the air.What will become of you and I?Come back to us.

I was running and deliberately lost my way. The world far off and nothing but my breath and the very next step and it__ like hypnosis. The feeling of conquering my own aliveness with no task but to keep going, making every way the right away and that__ a metaphor for everything.

Lords of spirit, Lords of breath,Lords of fireflies, stars, and light,Who will keep the world from death?Who will stop the coming night?Blue eyes, blue eyes, have the sight.

Once again, we are reminded that awakening, or enlightenment is not the property of Buddhism, any more than Truth is the property of Christianity. Neither the Buddha nor the Christ belongs exclusively to the communities that were founded in their names. They belong to all people of goodwill, all who are attentive to the secret which lives in the depths of their breath and their consciousness. (14)

When the power of breath (Sa) is controlled it becomes rested (as) and in thatstate it transforms into protector(tra); this is the basic principle of life andconsciousness, wherein the senses, mind, intelligence all are protected anddirected through the power of breath in a rested state, this is called Sa+as+tra (SASTRA). It is the most powerful weapon alive and the most powerfulprotector as well. One who stills, directs, controls and allows it to rise fromthe core of the body to the subtle, subtler, subtlest levels of consciousness isconsidered to be well versed in Sastras. Ananth Yoga allows one to work onthe Grossest, Gross, Subtle, Subtler levels of consciousness, through thebreath power leading on to connect to the subtlest level of consciousness.

A man is no more than breath until his breath fashions the words that others cannot forget.

May youalways haveopenbreezy spacesin your mind.

When life is foggy, path is unclear and mind is dull, remember your breath. It has the power to give you the peace. It has the power to resolve the unsolved equations of life.

Learning to leave his mind in meditation could be compared to snorkelling, which is breathing with his face under water. Which is just wrong!It had taken a lot of time and nagging for his brain to get used to snorkelling, for all those doubts and questions to be overcome - for him to relax and just breathe.Learning to leave his mind in meditation was the same kind of challenge; when there was a gap in his thoughts, when a space opened up, to resist the temptation to immediately fill it up - instead for him to relax and just breathe.

Sand lines my soul which is filled with the breath of the ocean.

He took a deep breath in, still managing himself as if he were resisting temptation. He was a soldier, his father was in the service, too. Crying wasn't something Morell men did. They just didn't. He hadn't cried at Robbie Morell's funeral.So he wasn't going to now.

Life is a spiritual breath.

Death is deceitful, pretending that peace is on the horizon. The truth is that chaos is left in its wake, claiming the souls of those stranded in life. Death is the enemy of love in its purest form. It's the one thing that can tear our souls out and rip our hearts to pieces. The miraculous part of this process is that all it needs to do is extinguish a single, solitary breath. That's all it takes to steal the future of someone; someone who deserves to live more than all the others. If only I could capture that breath before it was taken to replace it with my own.

Best of all is to preserve everything in a pure, still heart, and let there be for every pulse a thanksgiving, and for every breath a song.

Sometimes,I doubt the courage My bones are made ofAnd then,A breath finds her way inAnd her way outThe half-way-almost-full moonSmiles down;My heart sighsAnd quietly whispers:I remember.

I wont cry, it'll be fine. I'll take my last breath. Push it out my chest 'til there's nothing left.