Frame

It is with breath
That we draw inward,
And, with relief,
Release our hold.
Yet, some of us remain,
Clutching our chest,
And curling comfortably
Around our fires.
We nestle like infants,
As our spirits grow
Within our veins
And through our minds.
A child of wonder,
We see all anew.
Dazzling lights,
Lovely thoughts.
Until, at once we see
Within, we are trapped
Docile and paralyzed,
Begging to exhale.

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