I follow the imperative of the breath.
I inhale. Sound mind.
I exhale. Strong will.
Along this endless ocean of time I
realize my breath is all I have and
all I need.

I follow the directive of impression.
I see the sun rise blood-orange over Portland.
It washes the cityscape with its light like
the first sight of a flower in bloom.
The hills around me move.
My path is revealed in the illuminated silence.

I inhale.
Mt. Hood looms in the distance
and speaks my inevitability.